IT was an interesting theme for speculation, the manner in which Murad Nassyr, from whom I parted as a friend, would greet me. There was little doubt that he would be more relentless to me than if we had parted differently; for, as I had never wronged him, he would be forced to the greater violence to maintain his own injustice. It is possible for a man to forgive an injury, but it is doubtful if he will ever forgive one whom he has injured.

As I waited for his salutation I heard him speaking with one of the men who had brought us hither, and I heard him ask: "Where are the Mokkadem and the muza'bir?"

"They left Faschoda by the land route to go to the Dinka country, where Ibn Asl is. They wished to tell him themselves of the capture of these two men," replied the sailor.

"Then they may miss him. I am looking for him any moment with the captured Dinkas."

These words proved that Murad Nassyr was not overburdened with prudence. It was a mistake for him to say before me that Ibn Asl was about to seize the Dinkas, even though I was in no apparent likelihood of using the information. The plump little Turk then turned to me and said:

"Do you know me, you dog, or has your memory failed you?"

I did not answer an inquiry couched in these words, and he continued:

"Open your mouth, you black crow! Has fright made you dumb?"

I laughed and said: "Fright! And of you? My fat little friend, don't be absurd! No one would fear you, I least of all. You were not so brave when I last saw you and helped you clear your house of the supposed ghosts, who proved to be this very Mokkadem and his gang, with whom you are now so friendly."

"Dog, you dare to ridicule me! I will redouble your torture," he cried.

"Oh, leave me in peace!" I said. "You cut such a ridiculous figure with your threats that I can only laugh at you. You know me well enough to be sure what effect your boasting must have upon me. Go to sleep; that is better employment than wasting your strength trying to impress me. If there are any ghosts, call me, and I'll tackle them. And in the meantime you would do well to reflect that I have never harmed you, Murad Nassyr, and whether you are likely to be better off for the criminal course and evil companionship you have entered upon."

My words were not without effect, for the Turk turned away without another word; but I heard him bidding his men watch me well, for Ibn Asl would rather have me than thousands of piasters, and when he came would himself devise the tortures I was to undergo.

The room in which we were confined resembled a tent; its walls were linen, its ceiling matting stretched across stakes, and it was divided in the middle by another piece of linen. I could hear the murmur of feminine voices on my left, and conjectured that the Turk's sister had her apartments and her servants' apartments on that side.

Back of us hung another linen curtain, which was raised, and beyond was a smaller room, filled with boxes and casks, which had been pushed back to make room for us. Stout nails had been driven into the planks to which we were fastened, a precaution that was most wise, for, if by any

means we could get free of our shackles, we had nothing to do but raise the matting that formed the door, and jump overboard.

When we had been thus securely fastened Murad Nassyr surveyed us with satisfaction, saying: "Now you cannot move. Just try to escape me if you can! Ibn Asl will return by to-morrow and will pronounce your sentence. I sleep on the other side, and can hear all you say. If it should be a syllable that displeases me you will taste the whip. Now may Allah send you sweet slumber and still sweeter dreams."

These last words were said mockingly as he withdrew with his men.

He raised the side curtain and disappeared, and we heard his voice and a woman's, which we supposed to be and later learned was his sister's, whispering. We saw his shadow reappear on the linen partition of his own apartment, and shortly a woman's shadow was thrown beside it; they bent together, we heard them whispering, and then both rose and went on deck.

Scarcely had all this occurred than a female shadow appeared on the side of our apartment; it grew larger came nearer, the curtain was raised, and a woman's voice whispered: "Effendi, where are you?"

"Here," I said. "Who are you?"

"I am Fatma; do you remember?" she replied.

I did recollect her. She was a Negress who had served me in Murad Nassyr's house and who was the favorite servant of his sister.

"What do you want of me?" I asked.

"My mistress has sent me. She has learned from my lord, her brother, that you are to be tortured to death, and her heart is sorrowful."

"May Allah bless her for her sympathy," I said.

"Yes, Effendi, she is good. She will deliver you."

"Hamdulillah! How can she?"

"Unfortunately she cannot do much; but all that she can she will do. She has never forgotten that you cured me when I was so ill, and she begs you to tell me what you need."

I had completely forgotten that I had doctored this girl with the medicines in my little travelling case till she recalled it to me, and I was not a little touched that these two women should have so faithfully remembered a circumstance not worth recording.

"Where is your mistress?" I asked.

"Above on deck. She has coaxed her brother there so that I may speak to you."

"But suppose he returns unexpectedly and discovers us?"

"He will not. She will keep him there till I give her a signal that we have succeeded."

"Now, may heaven bless you," I said, starting up with sudden hope. "Bring a sharp knife."

She had already provided herself with one, which she produced, and, as I could not move my hands, I bade her cut the ropes which bound them.

"Allah!" she gasped. "What a thing you ask of me! My hands shake with fright; but I will do it, for you have been good to me."

I felt her hands quiver, but she cut true, and I snatched the knife to finish the work, crying:

"Thank you, Fatma, best of the daughters of Eve! May Allah reward you! How many men are there on this ship, and is the boat that brought us here still astern?"

"There are twenty-two men aboard, and the boat is still there."

"That is all I need to know. You may go in peace and you need not give the signal, for your mistress shall see with

her own eyes that her blessed kindness has succeeded. I am sure we shall meet again, and then I will prove my gratitude to you both, as I cannot prove it now."

She withdrew, and it took but a few moments to complete the work of liberating myself from my bonds.

"What a miracle, Effendi," whispered Ben Nil as I cut the ropes that held him, and he stood erect. "Who could have dreamed of such a rescue?"

I raised the mat which served as ceiling a little way and peered out. The crew lay sleeping on the deck, while the Turk and his sister leaned over the rail on the side nearer shore talking. The boat must lie on the other side; and over the stern, near the spot where I thought it should be, hung a chain brought through an iron ring, and fastened near our prison.

"Everything is favorable," I whispered. "We will climb down this chain into the water. No one is watching us, for Murad Nassyr has assumed that duty, and that good girl is occupying his attention."

We slipped out under the matting, seized the chain, and softly let ourselves into the water. Then we swam to where the boat was lying, keeping close under the ship that we might not be seen from above. The oars were in the boat, ready for her speedy return whence we had come.

"Now pull, Effendi," whispered Ben Nil, as we each took a pair. "We are free; but we must not lose a moment in getting away from here."

We had not pulled half a dozen strokes before we were discovered.

"The Effendi is out!" cried Murad Nassyr. "He is trying to escape! Look in the boat there! Follow him, men! A thousand piasters for the one who brings him back to me!"

Instantly the deck was all confusion, voices clamoring and

feet scurrying to unfasten the ship's tender from her davits, get her in the water and pursue us.

"Quick! quick!" shouted Murad Nassyr's voice, rising above all the hubbub. "Two thousand, three thousand piasters for the one who catches him!"

"Ten thousand piasters for him who catches me," I laughed in reply. Then we bent to our oars, and the boat sprang away like a hare. Ben Nil was an unusual oarsman; I could row a little myself -- I had pulled stroke on my college crew -- and, with the current helping us, we got such a start that we were soon beyond reach, and in a short time had put the ship out of sight behind us.

We were to meet the Reis Effendina at Faschoda, where he was to receive our information as to the sangak's being innocent or guilty of complicity with Ibn Asl.

We rowed hard all night, discussing the extraordinary action of the "turtle dove," in saving us from her brother and future husband. Whatever Murad Nassyr might be, she was a tender-hearted, grateful girl, and I made up my mind to do all I could to save her from falling into the hands of such a brute as Ibn Asl.

When the east began to be streaked with light we already were nearing Faschoda and espied the masts of "Esch Schadin," the Reis' own swift "Falcon," lying at the farther end of the town.

We encountered no obstacles in getting to her, and were welcomed with relief by the Reis, who was getting anxious about us, for the arrangement had been that we should wait for him on shore and be ready to board "Esch Schadin" the moment she arrived. After a hearty breakfast and a refreshing bath I related to the emir the history of my visit to the sangak and the indubitable proof of his alliance with the slave-dealers found in the actual presence of the Mokkadem and muza'bir in his house and his cooperation in my capture.

The wrath of the emir knew no bounds.

"You can hardly understand," he said, "how base this fellow is. I have loaded him with favors and trusted him, and he has used my confidence and kindness to further the crimes I am commissioned to stamp out. But his punishment shall equal his crime. Has any one seen you return?"

"No, I am certain we were not seen," I replied, wondering.

"Then Ibn Mulai will not know that he is found out. I will send a messenger to bid him come here to confer with me. You shall conceal yourselves and let this slender youth disguise himself as a woman. His figure will not betray him, and you shall see something that will amuse you."

The messenger was dispatched, and, though we could not imagine what game the emir was going to play, Ben Nil donned women's garments, which he provided, and was thickly veiled like any Eastern beauty.

We stood behind a curtain at the end of the emir's cabin when the sangak entered. He gave one sharp glance at the Reis Effendina's face, but, seeing that his brow was unruffled, threw off the half fear that he entertained of having been detected.

"Ibn Mulai," began the emir, "I sent for you, bidding you come to confer with me; but that was not the true reason for my desiring your presence. I have never rewarded you for your service to me in the manner such fidelity deserved." He paused and the sangak said:

"I am the truest of all your servants."

"The truest of them all," assented the emit, gravely. "For this reason I have chosen a wife for you as a reward, a wife who may be compared to all the houris of paradise."

"A wife!" stammered the sangak in amazement.

"Even so, a wife. A picture of beauty and virtues, a compendium of loveliness. Although it is contrary to our

customs, that you may know what a treasure you are to possess you shall see her now. Come forth, fair maiden, and lift thy veil, that this brave sangak may fall at thy feet, blinded by the splendor of thine eyes." He turned toward our hiding-place as he spoke and Ben Nil slowly advanced.

"It really is a woman!" cried the sangak, staring at the veiled figure. "I thought you jested. Is she as lovely as you say? Is she black or white?"

"Answer these questions for yourself. Look and wonder!"

The Reis Effendina rose and lifted the veil with his own hands. The sangak uttered an inarticulate cry and fell back in terror.

"Now, how does she please you?" asked the emir. "Are you not delighted?"

The sangak tried in vain to speak, and, as I came out from behind the curtain, could only turn a little more livid under his brown skin than he had been before.

"So you see that your game is played," said the emir fiercely, suddenly dropping his tone of mocking banter. "I know the length and breadth of your treachery. This Effendi, whom you delivered up to my enemies to his death, has escaped and returned to confound you." He clapped his hands and eight sailors entered. "You know your duty. Shoot him and throw his traitor's body into the Nile. Not a word," he added, as the sailors seized the sangak and the wretch essayed to speak. "You are a traitor and shall have a traitor's fate," and the fellow was dragged away to meet the death which, according to the laws of all lands, he had merited.

"And now, Effendi," said the Reis Effendina, "since that disagreeable duty is done, and we are by so much nearer success in stamping out these slave-traders, that we have discovered their treacherous ally among our own followers, let us lose no time in proceeding with our work. You have

learned through the Turk's imprudent words that he is expecting Ibn Asl with a capture of slaves from a Dinka village. Will you and Ben Nil go up the Nile toward where Murad Nassyr's ship is lying and try to get further tidings of their movements? I will follow by land and be ready to protect you with my 'Asaker' should you need me. It seems to me we can work more effectually separately than together until we are perfectly sure of our next move."

The plan struck me as the best possible, and, undismayed by all our previous hairbreadth escapes, Ben Nil and I made our simple preparations for departure.

Two hours after the noonday meal we were returning up the Nile in the direction whence we had come during the night. We were not obliged to hasten; we were very weary from loss of sleep, so each took turns at the oars while the other slept.

Thus by slow and steady progress our little boat crept up the great river till the sun went down.

Contents

Introduction