He had, of course, the Mahdist's patch on his clothes; and I told him to lie still, as if dead, till I came for him; as, in the melee, it would have been impossible for me to have protected him." Gregory found Zaki still lying where he left him, head downward and arms thrown forward; in so good an imitation of death that he feared, for a moment, the lad had been shot after he left him.

At the sound of his master's voice, however, the native sprang to his feet.
"You have saved my life, Zaki," Gregory said, taking his hand.

"I must have fallen--every man tied to a tree is, as you see, dead; but before we say anything else, cut that patch off your clothes, or you might be shot as a Dervish by the first man you come across.
"Keep close to me.

I am going to General Hunter.

At present, I know none of the officers of the white regiments.