“Please, sir,” he said mockingly, “it wasn’t me. Answer me first,” he cried. “Why do you talk about feeling like an impostor? Why,” continued the young man warmly, “I feel as if through my plan I am going to heap blessings upon mine enemy’s head. I am taking you through this country, amongst these cruelly savage people, to do nothing but good. Wherever you go your name will be blessed; they will think of the Great Hakim as long as they live.”
“Look here, young man,” said the doctor playfully, “I’ve made a mistake to-night. You began to play your part very nicely, and you were as quiet as a dumb waiter—that old black mahogany one in the dining-room at home. Then for company’s sake I stopped you, and here is the consequence. You took advantage of the liberty given you, and at once developed into a base flatterer, putting your adulation into all the flowery language you could muster. Now, no more of it, if you please. There, to speak soberly and well: Frank, lad, I am not the great, learned Hakim of your young imagination, but the hard-working student who tries his best to acquire more and more knowledge of our fallen human nature so as to fight against death like an earnest man. I know something of my profession, and I work hard, and always shall, to know more, so as to apply my skill in the best way. Please God, I hope to do a great deal of good during this our journey, and I promise you that I will think only of this application of my knowledge. Yes, I feel now that I can go on and face all that I have to do, for I shall not be such a sorry impostor, after all.”
“Isn’t it my turn now for a chat?” said the professor. “You two seem to be having a most interesting discussion, and it’s very dull back here. The Sheikh is fast asleep on his camel, and poor Sam has become speechless with misery, in spite of all I could say to him about mastering the art of camel-riding. He says he can’t get over the feeling that he is at sea. How are you two getting on?”
“Better, I suppose,” said the doctor, “for I have not thought so much of the motion lately. I suppose I’m getting used to it.”
“And you, Frank?”
“I had forgotten it too till you spoke. But I am utterly tired out. How long will it be before we get to the tents?”
“Oh, hours yet,” said the professor cheerfully.
“What!” cried the doctor and Frank in a breath.
“Not till well on in the morning,” said the professor; and then, as his companions turned to gaze at one another in dismay, “but we’re going to halt soon, to rest the camels and—ourselves.”