The hot-house at
Kew is excellent as a conservatory, but not adapted for exhibitions upon
the horizontal bar. I vote for a camp in the palm-grove and a halt
until evening."
Mortimer rose on his stirrups and looked hard to the southward.
Everywhere were the same black burned rocks and deep orange sand.
At one spot only an intermittent line appeared to have been cut through
the rugged spurs which ran down to the river. It was the bed of the old
railway, long destroyed by the Arabs, but now in process of
reconstruction by the advancing Egyptians. There was no other sign of
man's handiwork in all that desolate scene.
"It's palm trees or nothing," said Scott.
"Well, I suppose we must; and yet I grudge every hour until we catch the
force up. What _would_ our editors say if we were late for the action?"
"My dear chap, an old bird like you doesn't need to be told that no sane
modern general would ever attack until the Press is up."
"You don't mean that?" said young Anerley. "I thought we were looked
upon as an unmitigated nuisance."
"'Newspaper correspondents and travelling gentlemen, and all that tribe
of useless drones'--being an extract from Lord Wolseley's 'Soldier's
Pocket-Book,'" cried Scott. "We know all about _that_, Anerley;" and he
winked behind his blue spectacles.
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