“Very good. I have no great trust in this black man, Mansoor. I had rather talk direct with the Miralai.”
“What have you to say?”
“I have waited long, until they should all be asleep, and now in another hour we shall be called to evening prayer. First of all, here is a pistol, that you may not say that you are without arms.”
It was a clumsy, old-fashioned thing, but the Colonel saw the glint of a percussion-cap upon the nipple, and knew that it was loaded. He slipped it into the inner pocket of his Norfolk jacket.
“Thank you,” said he; “speak slowly, so that I may understand you.”
“There are eight of us who wish to go to Egypt. There are also four men in your party. One of us, Mehemet Ali, has fastened twelve camels together, which are the fastest of all save only those which are ridden by the Emirs. There are guards upon watch, but they are scattered in all directions. The twelve camels are close beside us here,—those twelve behind the acacia-tree. If we can only get mounted and started, I do not think that many can overtake us, and we shall have our rifles for them. The guards are not strong enough to stop so many of us. The waterskins are all filled, and we may see the Nile again by to-morrow night.”
The Colonel could not follow it all, “That is excellent,” said he. “But what are we to do about the three ladies?”
The black soldier shrugged his shoulders.
“Mefeesh!” said he. “One of them is old, and in any case there are plenty more women if we get back to Egypt. These will not come to any hurt, but they will be placed in the harem of the Khalija.”
“What you say is nonsense,” said the Colonel, sternly. “We shall take our women with us, or we shall not go at all.”