stone showed the hoof-marks of the animals which had used the precious store as long as it had lasted.

My first thought was fury at the guide, but that passed as I looked at him and saw him tremble as he stood. The men had fallen out without word of command, and were standing in groups talking. It was clear that the situation must be faced at once. I called up my senior native officer. Fall in," I ordered; "I am going to serve out water."

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The men fell in, but listlessly, and some of the eyes that met mine were sullen. I made them a short speech. Told them that they were halfway; that the worst of the march was over, and that we should be at water before dark; that we had plenty with us to carry us through if they would act like men, and that I was going to give each man a drink now and fill their water-bottles before we started, which we were going to do in half an hour. I then served out a mouthful to each man, including the guide, and dismissed them, telling them to take off their equipment and rest. That done, I sat down with my back against the rock and lit a pipe.

It was a bad business, but it might have been worse. It was plain that the guide knew what he was talking about, for he had found the rock, even though it had been much farther than we expected. It was not his fault that there was no water. Now if we really were

half-way we could do the rest all right, for we could drink all our water, dump the reserve ammunition, and carry some of the rifles on the mules. I was sorry for the mules, they were terribly thirsty, but I was quite prepared to sacrifice them if necessary. Presently I got up and strolled round the rock. Its sides were smooth, and there was no foothold. And then, perversely, I felt that I wanted to get to the top. I walked round again. Some of the men had hung their equipment on the thorn-tree, and had started to dig in the moist ground with their bayonets, in the hope, I suppose, of finding water. Suddenly it occurred to me that I might get on to the rock by way of the thorn-tree. One branch looked strong enough to bear my weight. The thorns were uninviting, but my skin was tough. It was a most accursed climb, but I did it somehow, and sprang from the branch on to the top of the stone.

It was flat on top, slightly hollowed in fact, and split from side to side by a wide crack, and lying across the crack was a human skeleton. The sight gave me a shock. It was so unexpected. White and clean the bones lay in the glare of the sun, the sockets of the eyes and the grinning teeth turned towards me. For a moment I stood there rigid, and then dropped on one knee beside the head, for a yellow flash among the teeth had caught my eye. Everything else

was forgotten as I knelt there over the empty shell-the raiders, the water, even my men-for one of the back teeth of the lower jaw was capped with gold!

Hardly had I realised the significance of my discovery when angry voices and the sound of a blow came up to me from the ground. On the instant speculation as to the skeleton was driven from my mind, banished by the need for action. I sprang to the edge of the rock, and, abandoning the thorn tree, slid to the ground and landed among the group of diggers, who had ceased work and seemed to be on the point of turning their bayonets on each other. My officers had already separated the principals, but it was plain that tempers were wearing thin under the strain, and that it was time to go. I gave the order to fall in and march.

There is no need to dwell upon the rest of that dreadful afternoon. I had no time to think ; my whole attention was concentrated on keeping my men together and on the move. I have since made the distance to be about fifteen miles; nothing very much over a good road and on a cool day, but a cruel march under the conditions in which we were placed. Sunset found us still upon the trackless plain, though a distant line of bushes was said by the guide to mark the course of the chain of pools. Some of the men were quite exhausted and unable to move,

and much as I disliked dividing my little force, I realised that something must be done. Accordingly I selected twentyfive of the freshest men, and taking all the water-bottles, slung on the two mules, we pushed on, accompanied by the guide. I didn't want to take the mules, but the poor little beasts were exhausted, and I knew that they must drink or die. The rest of the party, under my senior native officer, I ordered to follow as best they could, but to keep together at all costs. And so, in silence, we marched for an hour. I had given up all thought of the raiders, my only concern being to reach water, when suddenly a spark of light appeared far off to the right. It leaped up and disappeared, and then shone bright again. "Look, your Excellence, a fire," whispered the guide, who was at my elbow, tied with a piece of rope to one of the men. "It is the enemy, thanks be to Allah!"

It is almost impossible to walk quietly on that rough mud, but we tried our best. It was no good taking off our boots, for one is helpless, barefoot, in the dark. I had the mules held back when we got near, but it was the mules that gave us away in the end. The wretched beasts smelt the water, and mad with thirst as they were, they broke from the men holding them, and charged at a wild gallop towards the pool. The water-bottles, banging and clanking against

Italy and accompany him to Florence, and it was in Florence that I met again my friend Colonel Ricardo of the Italian General Staff and heard the story of Henry Judson and the Ark of the Covenant. It just shows how strangely chance works; for if it had not been for young Hawkwood I should never have stopped in Italy at all, but should have gone straight through from Brindisi to London, as I had at first intended. However, it is futile trying to trace things back to their first cause.

Before I started on leave I had, of course, submitted a written report about my attempt to cut off the raiding party, and had described the finding of the skeleton, but the people at headquarters were not as interested as I had expected, and, though they promised to make inquiries, they seemed to be much more concerned about the loss of one of my mules than about the finding of the skeleton.

My usual custom when going on leave was to get to England by the quickest possible route, but I found Hawkwood such good company that he had little difficulty in persuading me to stop with him in Italy. His reason for wanting to go to Florence appealed to me. He was reading for the Staff College, and in one of his textbooks he had come across an account of a Sir John Hawkwood who appeared to have been a stout fighting man in Italy during the Renaissance.

"The greatest soldier of fortune up to the time of Marlborough," the book said. This gentleman was buried in Florence, and Hawkwood, though he did not claim relationship, was anxious to make a pilgrimage to the tomb of one who was, at any rate, a credit to the name.

We disembarked at Brindisi, stopped at Naples and saw Pompeii, spent a day in Rome, where we visited the zoo, and in due course arrived in Florence. After locating the tomb in the cathedral and doing homage to the departed Hawkwood, we went to a race meeting; and it was at the race meeting that I met Ricardo. We had been at school together at Chesterton, and rather good friends. I had vaguely

known that he was an Italian though we never thought of him as a foreigner, for his mother was Scotch, and used to visit him sometimes during the term. I had heard that he was in the Italian army, but had not seen him, except for a moment at an old boys' match twenty years before. I recognised him at once. His long, thin, handsome face was just the same, except for a few wrinkles at the corners of the eyes, and he had kept his waist - line better than I had, for all my years of service in Africa.

He remembered me as soon as I spoke to him, and we chatted for a few minutes while his horse was being saddled, for he was riding in the officers' steeplechase, which was next on the card. He prom

ised to look us up as soon as the race was over, and gave us the tip to back his mount, which, he said, was easily the best thing running. We followed his advice, and presently had the satisfaction of seeing him romp home a comfortable winner. When the races were over Ricardo took us back in the Cavalry Brigade drag, a very smart turn-out driven by one of the subalterns. He dropped us at our hotel, promising to dine with us that night, and I could see that our stock had gone up consider ably among the tourists as we said good-bye and made our way through the lobby.

we

It was after dinner that Ricardo told us the story about the Ark of the Covenant. During the meal we had been recalling old acquaintances and generally bridging the years that had passed since our school days, and it wasn't until we had lighted our cigars that began to talk about Abyssinia. Ricardo had served for five or six years in the Italian colony of Eritrea, and when I told him that I had just come from the border of Abyssinia he was very much interested. He had shot elephants in my part of the world, he said, and with that the talk turned to shooting in general and to elephants in particular. We were, as is the custom of all who are interested in elephants, arguing as to the relative merits of the heart and head shots, when Ricardo said, Excuse me one moment," and, getting

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He

"Well," continued Ricardo, "Abelsburg is a fine old fellow, an orthodox Jew, very strict, and not at all like the flashy diamond encrusted specimens one sees so often. I met him first, last year, in Rome. is a great art collector, and he came to look over the picture gallery in my uncle's villa. There is a famous picture there, by an unknown master, of Solomon and the Queen of Sheba; and while he was looking at it, it occurred to me that he might be inter