1442 THE DOWNFALL OF THE DERVISHES rain, invariably resulted in fever to man and beast alike.

Despite the soaking rain, I dropped off to sleep, but was awaked about one o'clock by a commotion on my left. Mr. Villiers had also been stung in the neck by a scorpion, and was in great pain. He told me the sting felt like a red-hot knife plunged into his flesh, and the whole of his left side became temporarily paralysed. His faithful servant rubbed some ammonia into the wound, and after somebody had given him nearly a bottle of raw whisky, he managed to get to sleep.

Reveille sounded at 4 a.m., and we all rejoiced to see the dawn. The rain still fell in sheets, but notwithstanding the inclement weather, Mr. Scudamore was sitting and calmly shaving himself before a looking-glass, with a piece of waterproof over his shoulders. The dripping servants emerged from their nooks and crannies in the lowest depths of depression, and the camels snorted with increased petulance as they floundered through the mud to be loaded. The camel hates. wet almost as much as his masters. I have often been amused at their cat-like unwillingness to put their feet