the struggle, forget to flog them back behind the ropes, and for the moment bear the whip in vain. Nay, the very shins they were operating upon half an hour ago now press with impunity against their own sacred calves. Authority is human, and stares open-mouthed, as though made of common clay.
But now the sun is sinking, and the long contest draws to a close. Twice have the panting combatants released each other, paused to recover breath, and again buckled to; and this third round is the last. The grip of Ali's right leg round his donkey's neck has been gradually relaxing, and his adversary, disengaging him by a dexterous or fortunate twist from the saddle, lays him flat on his back upon the grass. The hard-fought battle, and with it the Luxor Second Meeting, is over; and remounting our donkeys, into whom the sight of their contending brethren seems to have breathed an unwonted spirit of emulation, we gallop back in a golden sunset-lighted cloud of dust to the town.
