THERE are people to whom an unfinished air, whistled, sung, or played, is torture. I confess to being one of these, and it may be that which rendered it impossible for me to do otherwise than accede to the desire of the Reis Effendina, and remain with him till his triumphal march should be completed. It was much that we had put an end to the crimes of the father and coadjutor of Ibn Asl, the fiercest of the Egyptian slave-hunters, but the chief villain was still in full cry after his prey, and the Mokkadem and muza'bir, whose wickedness I had good personal reasons for remembering, were still unpunished. Though the task I was engaged in was full of dangers and privations, I could not regret having promised the emir to see it through, nor would I have felt that I could turn my back on that good officer of the Viceroy until the work was done. We knew with certainty that we were not far from the haunts of Ibn Asl and his associates, and, before starting forth to raid them, held a council of war, in which the Reis gave me a piece of information which was both surprising and unpleasant. He said that he had information that Murad Nassyr, the Turk with whom I had stayed in Cairo, and who had also suffered at the hands of the Mokkadem, Abd el Barak, had entered into friendly relations with Ibn Asl, and was to give him his sister in marriage; indeed, was at that very moment somewhere in that neighborhood, bringing the fair "turtle dove," as she was called, to her

brutal future master. This arrangement had necessarily converted Murad Nassyr from my friend to my foe, since I was associated with the emir in hunting down his would-be brother-in-law, and putting an end to his nefarious trade. I was sorry to hear this, for I had liked the Turk during my stay in his house; but without stopping to consider his fall from honest ways, the emir proceeded to unfold to me the immediate work in hand.

There was a sangak, as a certain native officer is called, named Ibn Mulai, in whom the emir had always felt entire confidence. But a Negro had recently been captured, bearing a letter to this man from Ibn Asl; a letter which, though not positively incriminating, gave him good reason to suspect that the sangak was in secret collusion with the slave dealer. The Negro had been killed, and it was the emir's desire that I should disguise myself, and carry the letter to the sangak, and try to discover whether or not his distrust was well founded, since this man held a post important enough to frustrate all our plans should he be treacherous.

I agreed to undertake this dangerous mission, was furnished with the letter and the necessary information for my guidance by the emir, and set out in the morning, accompanied only by my faithful Ben Nil.

Two men alone in the wide desert! Who can picture to himself what these words mean? The sun burns so fiercely that one's flesh is parched, and one must pull the hood of his haïk well over his eyes to keep the reflection from blinding him. The silence is unbroken, for not only is there nothing to talk about, but one's swollen tongue presses painfully against one's dry lips, and speech would be torture. Before, behind one, and at every side, sand, sand, nothing but glittering, burning sand! The solitude is indescribable, and it is increased by the mechanical stride of the camel, going on like a machine. There is none of that

comradeship between the camel and his rider which exists between a man and a good horse. Not only is the animal's temperament responsible for this, but the difference in the manner of sitting the two animals increases it. The camel rider is perched on his peculiar saddle, with no more connection with his beast than if he were in a buggy, while the horseman clasps his steed with his own limbs; the nervous creature feels and understands every pressure of knee and hand, till man and beast half realize the ancient's conception of the centaur, and form a perfect whole, one in sympathy and understanding.

Both our camels were willing and swift animals; but we did not feel that they loved us, and that knowledge increased the loneliness of a desolate ride which the friendship of a horse would have brightened, and we were glad when we were aroused from our torpor by the screaming of hawks, and, on scanning the horizon with a glass, discovered a village, which was undoubtedly the headquarters of the man I sought.

Another hour's riding brought us to a small but thickly wooded island of green in the ocean of the desert, and here we dismounted, concealed ourselves and our camels, and prepared for our visit to the sangak. I wore the ordinary costume of that section of the country, and my sunburned hands and face looked as though they might belong to a genuine slave-dealer, except that the cut of my features, which I could not well alter, might betray me.

Of course, I read carefully the letter I was bearing, and mastered its contents before setting out for the village, which we did at sunset. It was perfectly dark when we reached the river. The village lay on the other shore, and we met servants of the sangak, who had been hunting, and who, when we made known to them our desire to visit their master, ferried us with our camels across the Nile.

As far as the darkness allowed us to see, the houses in this village were all mud huts, with two small windows, just large enough to shoot through, on each side of the narrow door. One hut, which seemed more prominent than the others, became the object of my attention. There seemed to be neither door knob nor lock, but I felt the end of a rude latch as I passed my hand down the door, which I tried, and found that it lifted. The door did not open, however, so I knocked, and soon heard swift steps and a voice demanding: "Who is there ?"

"A messenger to the sangak of Bahr el Oschebel."

"You must come another time; he is not here."

"I am a stranger here. Let me in; I will wait until he returns."

The man was silent, apparently considering. Then he said: "Stay a moment --I will ask if you may enter."

I heard him go away, and presently other steps approached, and another voice asked: "Is your message important?"

"Yes; I have a letter."

"Give it to me. I will open the window."

"I can't do that. I must deliver this letter only into the hands of Ibn Mulai, the sangak of Bahr el Oschebel."

"Then come in, if you must." A heavy iron bolt groaned, and the door opened. I saw by the light of a small oil lamp which he carried a man armed with two pistols, two knives and a crooked saber, although he was in the house. Two glittering evil eyes regarded me suspiciously as he asked in a mistrustful tone: "Why do you come at night? Could you not have got here earlier?"

"No one could have come quicker than I have," I replied. "I must hasten away again this very night, and it is above all things necessary for me to give this letter into the sangak's own hands."

"Your tone is too confident, fellow! I am a soldier, and my knife is never fast in its sheath. Do you understand? Follow me."

I entered, and he barred the door again. The walls were covered with weapons on every side, and opposite the entrance to the room I saw another door, through which I was led into a second, much larger room, lighted by a clay lamp with four branches suspended from the ceiling. There was a door on each one of the four sides of the room, but no window. A sheepskin mat was spread under the lamp, upon which lay four savage-looking fellows, who regarded me with unfriendly curiosity. My companion threw himself down beside them to resume an interrupted game, saying to me over his shoulder: "Wait here till our lord comes. But be silent and don't disturb us or we will close your mouth for you."

It may be imagined that my thoughts were not altogether pleasant. Here I was locked in a place that to all appearances was one of the headquarters of a deadly enemy, with five fellows of the wildest sort of native soldiery, and, lest they betray me by their Western workmanship, I had left my own weapons, with my watch and all my belongings, with Ben Nil, who was to await me at a short distance.

Having no watch, I could not tell how late it was growing; but it must have been three good hours that I sat in this hole before a thundering knocking was heard at the door.

"The sangak!" cried his followers, starting to their feet, while the one who had admitted me hastened to let him in.

The outer door opened, and I heard low voices; evidently the sangak was hearing of my arrival. In a few moments he entered. It is said that every man has likeness to some animal, and as I looked in the sangak's face I could think only of a steer, coming with lowered horns and red, angry eyes to gore his prey. He threw me a quick look, and, with

the one word "Come!" preceded me through one of the side doors, which one of his men held open for him.

As he seated himself he said: "You have a letter? Hand it to me."

He took the letter without looking at it, examined me closely with his cruel eyes, then demanded: "Your name?"

"Iskander Patras," I replied, giving a Greek name, hoping it would account for my lack of Oriental features, and knowing there were many of Levantine origin in the Sudan.

"A Greek!" exclaimed the sangak. "Where from?"

"I was born of Grecian parents in Kahireh," I replied, for spies cannot answer their foes truthfully.

"Christian?"

"Yes."

"It is the same to me. What are your duties at the Seribah Aliab?"

This was Ibn Asl's own seribah, or headquarters, but I replied quietly: "I act as interpreter. I have been long among the Negro tribes and I know their dialects."

"That brings you profits without risks," he said half contemptuously. "I will see what this letter says." He glanced at it as he spoke, and my heart beat high. The room was well lighted, and, if he saw that it had already been opened and resealed, I was lost. Luckily his impatience made him break the seal quickly and read the letter without paying attention to its wrapper.

When he had finished reading he thrust it into his pocket and said: "They tell me you waited three hours for me. You must be hungry; you shall eat, and tell me about the seribah." So saying he left the room, motioning me to be seated.

If only I had dared to run away, or could see any chance of doing so! It was likely the sangak knew the seribah

well, and if I, who had no notion of what it was like, talked about it, I was sure to get into a scrape!

However, there was no possibility of escape, so I tried to look pleased when the sangak returned, followed by a servant bringing a steaming joint.

"How long have you been at the seribah?" asked Ibn Mulai, after I had obeyed his command to attack the meat.

"For two years," I replied, as I made a show of eating with relish.

"Ibn Asl must have confidence in you to entrust you with this letter to me. How long are you to stay here?"

"I dare not linger an unnecessary moment," I replied "The boat which brought me here is to wait for me but a few hours, and if I am not on board it will sail without me."

"But I must hear all you can tell me of the seribah!" he cried impatiently. "And take care you do not fall into the hands of the Reis Effendina! Beware especially of a Christian dog, a foreign Effendi, who is somewhere between here and Khartum now."

"Why should I fear a Christian? I am a Christian, too," I said innocently.

"You have every reason to fear him! He is helping the Reis Effendina hunt our people and stop our trade. You evidently have not heard of him; I must tell you about him."

How thankful I was that he began forthwith to recount to me as I ate, his version of my deeds and character! I plied him with questions, meaning to take up all the time that I was eating with his story and then go. Thus would the danger of mistakes in my description of the seribah be averted. Could anything have been more lucky than this turn in the conversation? Fortune had smiled upon me; but she is notoriously a fickle jade, and, just as I was thanking her in my thoughts, she turned her back on me.

Suddenly a confusion of noises arose outside; doors slammed, voices clamored and then a man entered, announcing: "My lord, we have captured a spy! He was creeping up to listen at the door, and, as we took him, the holy man with his friend came up, asking to see you. They both say that they know the fellow."

As the sangak gave the order to bring in the prisoner the door opened again and five men came in, dragging and pushing into the room -- poor Ben Nil! And as I was wondering who the holy man and his friend who had recognized Ben Nil could be, lo and behold! who should follow the procession but the Mokkadem and the muza'bir!

Both had formerly tried in vain to murder us and knew us perfectly. What was to be done? There were twelve men against us, and outside were more, how many I could form no idea. I had no weapons, except useless old things I had taken for better disguise. The prospect looked black. The only possible chance would be through a sudden onslaught. Thus far I, who sat in the shadow, had not been seen, and as the sangak demanded of Ben Nil who he was, the Mokkadem answered for him: "Mudir, our hearts rejoice, as yours will wonder, when I tell you that we have here the friend and companion of our bitterest enemy, whom may Allah confound!"

"What enemy?" asked Ibn Mulai.

"The Effendi, the Christian dog. This young man is Ben Nil, of whom we have told you, the faithful follower of that cur. Where he is the other is not far distant, and, since we have captured Ben Nil, we can be sure that the Effendi is in Faschoda."

"Beat him!" cried the sangak, "and make him tell where his master is."

"That is not necessary," I said, rising from my corner. "I can tell you for myself where I am."

The effect of these words was indescribable. The startled men stood as stiff as if they had been turned into stone. Some of them fell back against the wall; one only made a motion as if to seize me. I must make good use of this surprise. Two leaps brought me to Ben Nil. I snatched him from his captors and pushed him toward the door, the soldiers falling away to the right and left. With blows and kicks I made good my path and got to the exit. Here Ben Nil stumbled. I stooped to raise him, and instantly the whole crowd regained their senses. Blows rained thick and fast. One fell on my head, but, half stunned, I fought on, blinded and scarce knowing what I did till I lost consciousness, and when I came to myself again we were both bound, lying on the floor among the ruins of my supper.

Poor Ben Nil, whose love for me had led him to take the foolish risk he had run, was watching anxiously for my eyes to open, and, when they did, he whispered: "Effendi, I have been guilty of such recklessness that you will find it hard to forgive me."

"I am not angry," I said. "You have harmed only yourself, for the Mokkadem would have come in in any case and recognized me. Though it is true that if you were free you might have gone back and brought the emir to my rescue. However, I hope that even now --"

Just then four men entered, carrying huge bast mats and ropes. We were gagged, our eyes bandaged and we were rolled up and tied in the mats like living mummies. The only part of us left out was our heads, so that at least we should not smother.

Then we were carried away; where, of course, we could not see. We were thrown with some violence on a hard surface, and we heard the sound of oars, and felt that we were in a boat and were rowed a long, long distance -- for hours, it seemed to me.

At last the motion ceased; we were lifted, borne somewhere, once more thrown heavily on a floor. Then we were unbound, the gags taken from our mouths and we found ourselves on the deck of a ship. Twenty or so men stood around us, and at their head was Murad Nassyr, my former friend of Cairo.

Contents

Introduction