In the Mahdi's Grasp

by George Manville Fenn

“So say I,” cried the professor, entering now in travel-stained Egyptian garments and muslin-covered fez.

“Excellent, too, Excellency,” said the Sheikh. “And now you will keep to this?”

“Of course. The Hakim is ready now to go round and see his sick.”

The Sheikh bowed, and feeling a little nervous the party set off at once, leaving Sam watching them from the door.

It was rather an ordeal, for they had not gone many paces towards the first tent they were to visit before they were seen, and word seemed to be passed quickly through the encampment, so that as they reached this first tent several of the Sheikh’s people appeared, while when they came out of it again nearly everyone of those occupying the place had hurried forth to stand watching.

But there was no look of wonder, no vestige of a smile, only respectful looks and bending down as the little party passed on.

That first visit was a solemn one, for it was to the tent where they were met by the mother of the little child, who led them to where her little sufferer lay in its last sleep. She reverently pressed the Hakim’s extended hand to her forehead, her tear-filled eyes and trembling lips seeming to say that she accepted patiently the blow which had fallen during the night, and that the Great Physician was very wise.

Frank Frere felt more at his ease by the time the next tent was reached, and perfectly satisfied when all was done. For he had played his part of slave and assistant easily and well, holding water vessels, passing bandage and lint, and standing by the sufferers while the Hakim tended his patients with the greatest care.

For there was no wondering gaze. It seemed quite natural and right to the sufferers, who were all doing well. The change in the dress of the Hakim and his friends was only what might have been expected now that their journey there was over, while Frank, the black slave, had the satisfaction of feeling that he was not even recognised by those he tended. He was the Hakim’s dumb, black slave. The white assistant who had helped the doctor the previous day was not present—that was all.

A couple of hours were taken up over the invalids, and they were left out of pain and comforted by the Hakim’s gentle hand, while when their own tent was reached the Hakim was able to say that nothing could be better than the state of his patients. With a couple more days’ attention they might be left to nature, and would soon be well.