"I am glad of it. My orders are to push on another three miles. On our return the camel corps shall collect the arms, and bring them in."
Gregory rode back to the emirs, who were slowly crossing the plain, but who halted as the cavalry dashed on.
"Now, Emirs," he said, "we can ride quietly back to camp."
"You have not taken our arms," Khatim said.
"No, Emir, it is not for me to ask for them. It is the General to whom you surrender, not me."
"I mourn to hear of the death of your father," Abu said, as they rode in. "He was a good man, and a skilful hakim."
"He speaks always in the highest terms of you, Emir, in his journal, and tells how he performed that operation on your left arm, which was necessary to save your life; but did so with great doubt, fearing that, never having performed one before, he might fail to save your life."
"I have often wondered what became of him," Abu said. "I believed that he had got safely into Khartoum, and I enquired about him when we entered. When I found that he was not among the killed, I trusted that he might have escaped. I grieve much to hear that he was killed while on his way down."
"Such was the will of Allah," Khatim said. "He preserved him at the battle, He preserved him in the town, He enabled him to reach Khartoum; but it was not His will that he should return to his countrymen. I say, with Abu, that he was a good man; and while he remained with us, was ever ready to use his skill for our benefit. It was Allah's will that his son should, after all these years, come to us; for assuredly, if any other white officer had asked us to surrender, I would have refused."
"Many strange things happen by the will of God," Gregory said. "It was wonderful that, sixteen years after his death, I should find my father's journal at Hebbeh, and learn the story of his escape after the battle, and of his stay with you at El Obeid."