THE CAMP-FOLLOWERS
Time was now getting on, and the fidgety old King, weary of being constantly on the move, became more and more impatient to reach his journey's end. For many days they had been
crossing the great desert, and were fast approaching the further side when, one evening, the aggravating old fellow decided that they should march on right through the night. In vain did Bill point out to him how tired they all were; the old King would not even listen to him, so, whether they liked it or not, they had to jog on.
Wearily they trudged along, and towards morning they came upon a great stone sphinx, in the arms of which there nestled a company of little children, every one of whom was fast asleep. Presently, as the sun rose and shone under the lids of their eyes, they, one by one, awakened, and stared in mute astonishment at the dusty figures before them. Assuring them that they had nothing to fear at their hands, Bill, with the King's permission, invited them all to breakfast. Seated in a great circle on the sands, beneath the old sphinx, every one did his utmost to make the strangers comfortable and to remove their natural shyness; and, in a little while, it was a very jovial party that sat demolishing the substantial breakfast prepared for them. Many songs were sung and stories told by Bill and his comrades, and presently one of the little fellows, who appeared to be the youngest of their new friends, stood up and related the following story:—
'We are all brothers and sisters, and lived, until yesterday, with our good parents upon a sandbank in the mouth of the river Blim which, as you know, is one of the smaller tributaries of the river Nile. Our father
was a fisherman, and upon the only spot on the bank which remained invariably high and dry, the clever man had erected a shed which served us for home, and which, at least, protected us from the showers of spray blown from the rough seas, and the chill winds that blew across the neighbouring marshes, as well as the cold rains that, in the fall of the year, flooded the adjacent country for miles around. A dozen stout beams, that had been cast up by the waves, served, each with one end deeply embedded in the wet sand, as a framework for our humble mansion. These were covered over with numerous skins of fish and pieces of old rag, all neatly stitched together by our industrious mother, or pinned by fish-bones skilfully sharpened by grinding their ends between two stones. Our good dad's stock-in-trade consisted of one long piece of frayed string, with a sharpened fishbone, bent in the form of a hook, fastened at one end, a small boat and a paddle, the former of which he had skilfully fashioned out of an old basket that had been washed ashore, and over which he had stretched more of the rags and fish-skins, of which we always possessed a goodly supply saved over from our meals.
'During the long winter months we were entirely cut off from our fellow creatures by the floods and the terrible storms at sea, and were compelled to subsist entirely upon our own resources; and thus we learnt, after many a bitter trial, to make almost everything we required from the spoils brought home by our