"Very well, sir. I am sure we have killed enough of the poor beggars. I hope he will give in."
As Gregory neared the party, which was some five hundred strong, several shots were fired at him. He waved a white handkerchief, and the firing ceased. Two emirs rode forward to meet him.
"I have come, sir, from the English General, to ask you to surrender. Your cause is lost. The Khalifa is dead, and most of his principal emirs. He is anxious that there should be no further loss of blood."
"We can die, sir, as the others have done," the elder emir, a man of some sixty years old, said sternly.
"But that would not avail your cause, sir. I solicited this mission, as I owe much to you."
"How can that be?" the chief asked.
"I am the son of that white man whom you so kindly treated, at El Obeid, where he saved the life of your son Abu;" and he bowed to the younger emir.
"Then he escaped?" the latter exclaimed.