The professor looked at the Sheikh searchingly.
“I thought I knew you thoroughly, Ibrahim,” he said at last; “but I find you are a wiser man than I thought.”
“No, Excellency,” said the old man sadly; “I have only tried to be wise; and in a long life mixing a great deal with the people from the West I have learned far more than my people could ever know; but what is it?” he said, holding out his hollowed hand as if it contained something. “So little; and there is so much to know.”
“Yes,” said the doctor slowly, “so much to know, Ibrahim, and life seems so short. I would give even some of that for the greater power of healing that would enable me to say, This man will live.”
Chapter Twenty Eight.
A Scientific Marvel.
The day broke at last, after a long and watchful night of silence, during which the Hakim had never left his patient’s side, but he had insisted upon his companions taking watch and watch.
The patient had not stirred, but lain as motionless as if already dead, apparently free from all suffering, and displaying symptoms which made the lines grow deeper in the doctor’s brow.