engineers—also the land of mystery, the abode of intrigue, the cockpit of puerile nationalism, and the soul of all things topsy-turvy and contrary. It is a land for a brave soldier, a skilful engineer, or the tourist in search of Rameses' shin-bones.

It is a country wet with British blood and paved with British gold. The noblest things in Egypt are British; the vilest are the products of aliens who have dodged justice and cleanness through the vagaries of "The Capitulations" (an international treaty which makes John Bull pay for the privilege of entertaining alien murderers, white slavers, forgers, assassins, corrupt financiers, and legal twisters). But it is a land worth holding, not so much for any riches it may possess, but for the Suez Canal, which links us to our Indian Empire.

The Egyptians, on the whole, are an industrious and harmless people. For centuries they have been slaves to Greeks, Romans, Persians, Turks, and Crusaders from every land. They have been doomed to serve because of their inability to lead and control. They are content to serve so long as justice reigns. Egypt to-day is better governed, more prosperous, happier than it has ever been in its history. Cromer, Kitchener, the Tommy, the Engineer, and the men of the "Egyptian Civil" have given their noblest efforts to crush corruption, to kill decay, to make the native full-fed and serene.

Discontent in Egypt is the work of a few who have cast off their native garments, donned the clothes of the Westerner, and acquired a smattering of things. A little knowledge is a dangerous thing. These young effendis are the fools who would step where angels fear to tread. These malcontents spurred and led Arabi Pasha (a true patriot) to his doom. The self-same type have recently sent a Khedive into shame and exile. These so-called "Nationalists" were the willing tools of German and Austrian agents who aimed at capturing Egypt and dominating the route to India. Before the war there was a German spy in every town from Alexandria to Khartoum. These spies even supped at the table of the late Khedive. While they went their way they smiled and called us fools. Eagerly they lived for the day when Enver Pasha (the well-paid Moslem adventurer) would lead his deluded Turks against the British host.

The great dream of the Khedive, his Nationalists and German agents failed because of the courage and shrewdness of "K" and his men. While the world waited for the Holy War and the fall of Egypt, the great Australian host was quietly landing on Egypt's shores. In this army were such men as the Kangaroo Marines—fearless, tireless, and ready for adventure. The tramp, tramp of their feet made traitors shiver and flee; their physique, their chins, their corded arms spread over the Delta and the desert a sense of might and courage.

"There can be no rebellion. The Australians are too big, too strong. Allah is against us," said the wise men in the little hamlets by the Nile.

"These are white men—not black," muttered an effendi to his friend, as the Australians marched through intriguing Cairo. Like many Egyptians, he had imagined Australians to be of a nigger mould.

"Yes, infidels and sons of dogs," growled a priestly fanatic.

"What men—what guns—Allah preserve us!" said many more who had talked revolution for a while. This, truly, was a bloodless climax to the schemes of Germany, Turkey, and the Khedive.

Along the sun-baked road to Mena marched the Australians. They were treading a road made by a great Khedive for the Empress Eugenie to see the Pyramids in comfort. When they halted they were beneath the shade of the historic piles of stones. Napoleon's soldiers had been there, so had Gordon's and Kitchener's heroes. Now these sons of the Motherland found themselves at the beginning of another historic mission.

"There's been a lot of overtime on that job," said Bill Buster to his pals when nearing the Pyramids.

"Wha built them?" inquired Sandy of Claud.

"Rameses built one."

"What for?"

"To keep his fellows from getting tired."

"Sure now," said Paddy, "there's a dog wid a woman's head."

"That's a Sphinx," remarked Claud with a smile.

These ancient things and the general surroundings made all open their eyes in wonder, and feel that there were more things on earth than their own little cabbage patch.

They settled down quickly, and having received an enormous haul of cash in the form of arrears of pay, the Kangaroo Marines and every other corps set out on donkeys, motor-cars, cabs, camels and carts to see the sights of Cairo.

"Gee whiz! this is some town," said Bill, on reaching the gay and dazzling city. The wide streets, oriental buildings, the weird bazaars, gaily-lit cafés, and veiled women, amazed these simple Bushmen. It was like "The Arabian Nights," wonderful, alluring, seductive and strange. All were gripped by the subtle atmosphere of things. Their blood tingled with the sensuous aroma of the East. Cheap wine in the cafés of the Greeks let the devil loose, and so they fell an easy prey to the lures of the bold and handsome wantons of Cairo. Thus many were duped and robbed.

Australians when wronged must have revenge. An eye for an eye is the law of the bush. The revenge came in an unexpected way. In one of the streets where the wantons live an injustice had been done to one of the boys. The exact reason was never told. But Cairo was soon alarmed by the shrieks of women, the shouts of fire, and the galloping of mounted police. Through the glare and smoke could be seen a little army of men wreaking revenge. Windows were being smashed, a piano was crashed from above to the ground, doors were torn down, crockery clattered into the street.

"Allah! Allah! Save us, save us! The mad Australians! The mad Australians!" cried the cowardly effendis as they fled.

"Help! Help!" screamed the wantons, as they ran like maddened hares. But the wrecking went on, despite the charging pickets and hoarse commands from officers and police.

"Here's the fire brigade, boys, capture them," yelled a great hulking fellow. And they did. With a wild haloo, they captured the engines, cut the pipes, and terrified the poor gippy firemen out of their lives. It was an ugly time. And the riot was only quelled by armed pickets sent from other corps.

"It's a great pity we interfered at all," said a Cairo dignitary that night.

"Why?" inquired his friend.

"They would have burned the whole dirty place down, and that would have been the greatest blessing to Cairo."

"Then you don't blame them?"

"No. I think Cairo has been cursed with the vilest creatures God ever made. Yes, I admit, the Capitulations have hitherto tied our hands. Thank Heaven Egypt is now a Protectorate. We can clean out these filthy dens after the war."

"Yes, it is a queer hole, but East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet," chipped in another member of the club. "It's a wonder they didn't kill that fellow Hassein."

"Who's he?"

"A rotter who dresses as a woman and runs a crowd of white slaves. And, by Jove! he looks like a woman too—all scented and faked."

"Oh, he's a law-abiding merchant of sin," said a gippy officer. "There's a worse person than he here."

"Who's that?"

"Madame Mysterious, who owns dozens of these low shows in Cairo."

"Isn't that the woman who used to buy and sell wives to the rich effendis and gippy pashas?"

"The same. That old Pasha down near Alex is one of her patrons. He's a proper old rascal. Do you know that he has got women in his harem who have been educated in some of our greatest schools in England?"

"Not English women, surely?"

"No. Gippy girls, daughters of rich fellows."

"And why shouldn't he?" interjected an old gippy warrior who defended the customs of the East. "We have no right to force our Western morals down an Oriental's throat. It is easy to be a moralist in a freezing climate like ours. The snow