“These are the anxious hours, Frank,” he said, “before daylight comes. Much depends on our getting well through the next two. If the poor fellow is alive at sunrise I shall feel quite satisfied that he will recover; but if he does it will be by a very narrow way.”
The pair sat then and listened and watched, with the patient still breathing slowly and softly, seeming very calm at last when the first faint dawn appeared; and soon after the doorway was shaded by the Sheikh.
“How is he, Excellencies?” he said in a whisper.
“He will live, Ibrahim,” replied the doctor. “Come and watch now while we go to my tent and snatch a few hours’ rest.”
“I have some coffee ready for you, Excellency,” whispered the old man. “You will take that first?”
“Yes, it will be very welcome,” said the doctor.
“I suppose you heard them go?” said the Sheikh, as they stepped out into the soft grey light. “Go? Heard whom go?” said Frank quickly.
“The Baggara,” replied the Sheikh. “About two hours ago.”
“No!” said the doctor. “Not a sound.”
“They have all gone, Excellency, excepting the wounded in the next tent and twelve mounted men who are stationed round to act, I suppose, as a guard.”