Max opened his mouth to speak, but remained silent.
“Speak, my son,” said the Mahdi.
Max blushed a deep crimson as he was thus addressed.
“I am the youngest here and I may offend,” he replied, modestly.
“Thou canst not offend me. Speak just as you think. I will hear all and condemn not.”
The madcap was emboldened, and clearing his throat made, for him, a long speech.
“I left Cairo on a special mission of my own,” he began. “Fate, or, as you would say, Allah, guided me to you. I have fought under your banner.”
“And right bravely, too,” the Mahdi interjected.
“I don’t believe in your religion, but I know that you”—looking at the Mahdi—“are by a long shot the best man in the Soudan to-day. As Englishmen have joined your enemies, I don’t see why I should not join you, and I’ll be hanged if it isn’t a good work you are engaged in. Now, I’ve got an idea—just forget that you are the Mahdi and, to put it plainly, a rebel——Oh, don’t wince; George Washington, the greatest man who ever lived, was a rebel until he was successful, then he was a patriot.”
“I have already told you to speak as you think,” said Mohammed Ahmed. “I shall not be offended.”