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Anthony's friend and instructor in the lore of legends rejoiced in the name of "Asmack," which, he proudly said, had been bestowed on the eldest son in his family, since time immemorial. Asmack the old and wise was to meet us at Kabushia Station, with camels, one for each, and one for Sir Marcus, in case he had arrived and wished to ride to the Mountain of the Golden Pyramid.
Wire Kabushia Lark. His loyalty to us shamed me. We had not given him the benefit of the doubt, but had at once believed the worst. He, though "not a gentleman" in the opinion of Colonel Corkran and some others, was chivalrously sure that we had "not gone ahead of the bargain!"
It was orange-red afternoon when our white train slowed down, to pause for a moment at Kabushia Station, and the first face we saw was that of Sir Marcus Antonius a radiant face whose beaming smile was, I knew, not so much a welcome for us as a sign that he had received the telegram from Cleopatra.
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