Max started forward, but before his legs had moved a dozen times he fell on his face.
The conspirators lifted him up, and as no conveyances were to be found in Kordofan at that hour of the night, they had to carry him to Shula’s residence.
Before morning’s dawn he had told his adventures and laughed at the escapade.
“If ever the Mahdi rules in Kordofan I am going to see Lalla,” he said. “I want to know more about her.”
“Not even the prophet could give you the right to enter any man’s harem,” said Shula.
“Then your Mahdi must be a queer sort of fellow.”
Max was unable to talk longer, for he was naturally weak from his struggles in the Nile.
Twenty-four hours elapsed before he was able to feel that he was the strong athlete again.
When he awoke on the morning of the third day he heard cries which roused him:
“Allah il Allah!”