“I begin to think it will,” said the professor, “if some of our Emir’s people do not stop you as you are going out.”
“I do not think they will,” said Frank quietly; “and I have a feeling of confidence upon me which makes me ready to say I shall succeed.”
The professor said nothing, but he looked very grave and glanced at Ibrahim, whose countenance was solemn in the extreme, while the Hakim seemed plunged in thought.
But they had to think of other things soon after, for there had been a fierce encounter at daybreak that morning, some miles from the city, for what reason the party did not know; but its results were the bringing of about a dozen wounded men on horse, donkey, and camel, to be carried into the tent-like booth in the grounds, where of late the Hakim had attended to his patients, and he and his assistants were as hard at work as they could be for hours.
“You have thought no more about that plan of yours,” said the professor anxiously, as the last wounded man was carried out after he had shown his thankfulness by kissing the Hakim’s hand.
“On the contrary,” said Frank, smiling, “I have thought of nothing else, seen nothing else but that bridle all the morning, and now I feel that I must have made plenty of mistakes.”
“But it will be too late to make arrangements now,” said the Hakim anxiously.
“There are none to make,” replied Frank. “Look here: there has been some serious fighting, of course, and I believe both the Emir and his son are away, or we should have seen them here.”
“It’s of no use to argue with you, Frank,” cried the professor pettishly. “You have an answer for everything. I’m sure you will be stopped.”
“Never mind,” said Frank. “I am going to try what a bold stroke will do. If I am turned back I must get leave through our young chief another day, and chance dropping a word in Harry’s ear.”