During the next few days the dread of the guard’s suspicions died out and was pretty well forgotten in the wild excitements which followed one upon another. For the Khalifa’s troops came pouring into the place and camping around in all directions, till the poorer inhabitants, and those who lived by trade, began to long for a deliverance from their so-called friends, feeling truthfully that the occupation of the place by the enemy—British and Egyptian—from the north, would be a welcome blessing.
Meanwhile fresh news was always being brought in by spies and scouts. The enemy was approaching fast; he was devastating all before him and covering the banks of the river with the slain, who were being swept down the rapid streams by thousands.
The enemy had come by boat, by camel, by horse, and by means of the strange litters which ran on rails of iron. They had advanced in all their proud strength, with standards flying and their men playing savage, barbarous strains upon hideous instruments; and as they came on they shouted in their pride and folly, little thinking what was to come. For the new Mahdi had come down from Khartoum mounted upon a jet black horse whose eyes blazed fire, whose mane and tail streamed out like the wind-swept sand in a storm; and he had with his chosen joined all his Emirs and wisest generals—a mighty host greater than the desert sands—and then with standards flying and drums beating he had, in the name of the Prophet, joined battle with the infidel. He had opened out the fore-front of his host as the Christian dogs cowered back in fear, forming his attack in the shape of the crescent moon, and then to the war-cry of “Allah il Allah!” they had swept down upon their enemies as the sand of the desert sweeps down in a storm. The spears and swords flashed as they drank the infidels’ blood and rode on, crushing them into the sand, till the Mahdi’s conquering host stood breathless upon the banks of the river Nile, into which the Christian and the Egyptian armies had been driven, and not one was left to tell the tale.
The Emir’s chief of the guard bore the first account to Ibrahim, and told it stolidly, his forehead in lines; but within two hours he came again and told him the second tale.
But his face bore no trace of elation. He merely told the tale as it had been brought to him, finishing by saying—
“If the battle is won, my master, the Emir, will soon be back.”
“Then he did not believe the account?” said the professor coolly.
“I thought not at the time, Excellency. Perhaps he knows what his people can say. But what does his Excellency think? The camels are all healthy and strong; my young men are ready; and the great Hakim has but to give the word. Then we could lift the two brothers upon the swiftest camels, taking nothing but the few poor things we need, and fly as soon as it is dark, for there is no moon now.”
“Let us hear what my brother says,” said Frank, who was listening to all that had been said. “What do you think, Hal—could we escape?”
“No,” was the decisive answer. “The country round swarms with armed men—bloodthirsty savages, panting like the jackal and hyaena for blood and spoil. We could not go a mile without being stopped, and if we were the next hour we should all be slaves, or the camels would be driven off while the sand was soaking up our blood.”