“I know you,” he said. “You are a traitor to the Government of Egypt, from which you have taken many benefits. You received the Khalifa’s General, Wad en-Negumi, and supplied him with food, water, and camels. Had it not been for you, perhaps he could not have advanced, and had it not been for you, many more of his people must have been captured. How dare you show your face to me?”
“Bey,” said the Sheik humbly, “that story is not true. What I did for Abdullah’s soldiers, I did because I must, or die. May his name be accursed!” and he spat upon the ground. “Now I come to seek justice from you, who have power here.”
“Go on,” said Rupert, “you shall have justice, I promise you—if I can give it.”
“Bey, a detachment of the Egyptian troops mounted upon camels have swept down upon me and robbed me. They have taken away all my sheep and most of the dromedaries, and killed three of my people who strove to protect them. More, they have insulted my women—yes, they, those dogs of Fellaheen. In the name of Allah, I pray you order that my property should be restored, or if you cannot do so, write to Cairo on my behalf, for I am a true man, and the Khedive is my lord and no other.”
“Yet,” answered Rupert, “yet, Sheik Ibrahim, I have seen a certain letter written by you to the impostor, Abdullah, the Khalifa, in which you offer him assistance, should he invade Egypt and take the road that runs past the Sweet Wells.”
Ibrahim’s face fell. “That letter was forged,” he said sullenly.
“Then, friend, how comes it that you know anything about it?” asked Rupert. “Get you back to your tribe and be thankful that, now the Khedive is victorious, his soldiers did not take you as well as your sheep. Know that you are a man with a mark against his name, and bear yourself more faithfully, lest this should be your lot”—and with his foot he touched the grave of the emir across which they talked.
The Sheik made no answer. Going to his dromedary, he climbed into the saddle, bade the beast rise, and rode off a little way. At a distance of about forty yards, which doubtless he judged to be out of revolver shot, he halted and began a furious tirade of abuse.
“Infidel dog!” he shouted, with some added insults directed against Rupert’s forbears, “you who stand there with your defiling foot upon the grave of the true believer whom you killed, hear me. You refuse me justice and accuse me of having helped the Khalifa. Be careful lest I should help him, I who am the Sheik of the Territories of the Sweet Wells, the road whereby he will come to take Egypt with fifty thousand dervishes at his back, who will not be fool enough to march down the river-bank and be shelled by your guns from steamboats. My tribe is a strong one, and we live in a mountainous country whence we cannot be hunted, though your hounds of Fellaheen took us unawares the other day. Oh! be careful lest I should catch you, white Bey, whose face I shall not forget. If ever I do, I will pay you back for the affront you put upon me, a true man. I swear it by my father’s head. Yes, then you shall choose between the faith and death; then you shall acknowledge that Mahomet is the prophet of Allah, you Cross-worshipping infidel, and that he whom you name an impostor shall drive you and all your foul race into the sea.”
“You forget yourself, Sheik of the Sweet Wells,” answered Rupert quietly, “and forget also that the future is the gift of God and not shaped by man. Begone, now! Begone at once, lest I, too, grow angry and summon my soldiers to take you and throw you in prison where you deserve to be. Off, and let me see your face no more, you who dare to threaten your sovereign, for I think that when we meet again it will be the herald of your death.”