A PROPHECY FULFILLED.
It was not long before my uncle made known to me the real reason for his journey to the East. The description that I had sent home of the Temple of Sophana had, as he told me, caused the smouldering fire within him to break into flame, and he decided that he was not too old to do something in the world of discovery. The report of my death, however, was a great shock to him, and extinguished the flame of his ambitions. Then, when he heard of my success, he no longer hesitated, but persuaded my father to accompany him, and set out at once. It was therefore, I found, not so much the Golden Girdle that had impelled him to come to Baghdad, as his craving to visit the ruins of Katib, and see with his own eyes what no other European, except myself, had seen. That I should wish to go with him was only natural; but it was not to be, as Edwards declared that I was wholly unfit for such an undertaking.
In due course all arrangements were made; and, at my suggestion, Faris was communicated with, and asked to conduct my father and uncle to the ruins. But it was nearly a month before everything was settled. In the end, Faris agreed to meet the party at the Birs Nimroud on a certain day, and to bring with him a sufficient escort of Aeniza. There he was to receive from my uncle the much coveted shoe of Shahzadi, and he promised to be responsible for the safety of the relatives of his "brother the magician" until he brought them back again to the Birs Nimroud. In my opinion, no expedition ever started under more favourable circumstances, and it was with many heart-burnings that, after seeing the two adventurers and their zaptiehs a few miles on the road, I turned back, and returned with Edwards to Baghdad.
"It is rather sickening," said I, "to be out of this. I must say I should have liked to have had a look at the temple in cold blood."
"Be content," said Edwards, "with what you have already seen and done. Your constitution has been pretty well undermined as it is, and if you are not ever so careful, you will shatter it altogether."
"It will be a trifle dull," said I, "idling about this place until they come back."
"They will not be very long, I fancy," said Edwards. "The professor promised to waste no time, as he is most anxious to get home with the Girdle. I am to go on six months' leave by the same boat, so we will have merry times. In the meanwhile, I have got a job for you, and if you undertake it, you will not be bored by idleness."
"What is it?" I asked. "Nothing very exciting, I expect."
"Perhaps not quite up to your standard of excitement," said my friend, "but I told your father that I would do my level best to persuade you to carry out his wishes. All you have to do is to take pen, ink, and paper, and put together the story of your wanderings in search of the Golden Girdle."
"How deadly uninteresting," said I, with a groan.
Yet, as the time went on, and I found myself unable to do much riding or take other hard exercise, I began to jot down notes and headings on the paper which Edwards, each day, thrust obtrusively before me; and, at length, I came to the conclusion that such a treasure as the Golden Girdle was indeed worthy of having its history put on record. So I set to work with a will, full of misgivings of my ability to describe the queer things that I had seen and heard in the desert; and, each morning, sitting at my window, overlooking the mighty waters of the Tigris, I added a few sheets to the fast-growing pile.
While thus engaged, I received the first news of the wanderers, contained in a long letter from my father. It was written at Hillah, and finished as the camp was being struck at the Birs Nimroud. Edwards and I read it with intense interest, and both of us blushed when we came to passages dealing with the good names which we had left behind us; for many were the nice things that my father told me he had heard, not only from the Aeniza, but also from the Turkish officials at Hillah. There he had met the cheery old Commandant, who had recently returned from reinstating Ali Khan at Adiba. In the eyes of Ali Khan and his people, we were, the Commandant affirmed, the greatest heroes that Arabia had yet known, and if ever we revisited Adiba, our welcome would be magnificent. At the Birs Nimroud, Faris, Sedjur, two hundred horsemen, and many camels were found waiting, and immediately on his arrival, my uncle presented the sheik, in the presence of his men, with the shoe of Shahzadi, the Aeniza displaying extraordinary enthusiasm on the occasion. "We are just off," concluded my father, "and Sheik Faris is capering around on little Kushki, with the prized shoe dangling from her neck—the two of them as proud as peacocks."
