“My plan is this: Let some one go secretly to Khartoum, to Kordofan, and Senaar, and preach rebellion. Let whoever goes rouse the people—talk to them of the way they have been robbed, and then spring upon them the idea that you, their Mahdi, will deliver them. You see, by this means you would have friends waiting for you in each place.”
“That is good, my son, but the messengers may be killed.”
“Very likely. When I took up the sword I just said to myself: ‘Max, old fellow, make your will, reconcile yourself to your enemies, and go in a buster.’”
Although the slangy manner in which Max spoke seemed incoherent, his hearers knew that he was in earnest, and that the plan was a good one.
“Better leave out Khartoum,” said the prophet; “let the plan be worked in other places first.”
“The plan is a good one,” said Sherif el Habib, “but who could carry it out?”
“I would go to one place,” exclaimed Mohammed.
Ibrahim whispered to Girzilla’s father:
“What would become of your harem?”
“I will go,” said Sherif el Habib, with enthusiasm.