“This,” said Selim, pointing to Abdullah, “is Abdullah, son of Sheikh Mohammed bin Mussoud; I am Selim, son of Amer, son of Osman; thou art Sultan, the son of Ali, my kinsman and friend.”
“Oh, blessed be the compassionate God! Praised be the Lord of all creatures—the most merciful, the King of the Judgment-day!” cried the aged Sultan, as he rushed to Selim and Abdullah, and brought them together, and embraced them both at once, and kissed their foreheads, and would not release them for a moment, but continued to pour his kisses on their faces, and endearing terms into their ears, while hot tears poured down his cheeks as he said, looking at them with a memory which carried him and them to that fatal day in Urori, “And thou art Selim, the son of noble Amor, my kinsman! and this is Abdullah, son of Mohammed! Ah, wondrous are the ways of God, and merciful is He to true believers! I see Amer and Mohammed in your eyes, children; how came I to forget that fatal day of Kwikuru? But enter, children. Enter, in the name of the Most High. Amer’s kinsman cannot forget his duties to Amer’s son!”
But the other Arabs could not permit Sultan, son of Ali, to take the boys away without being permitted to embrace them, and while scalding tears fell down their cheeks, they cried out, “Blessed is the Most High, the merciful and compassionate God!” and poured their congratulations into the ears of the escaped captives.
Before quite going in at the door of the tembe, Selim turned to Sheikh Sultan and said:
“Sultan, son of Ali, let not the son of Amer be called ungrateful. Lo! here are my friends. Thou hast not thanked them for what they have done to us. This is Simba, and this is Moto! Dost thou not know them?”
“Ah, who does not know Simba and Moto?” said the old man, as he rushed at them and gave them a warm embrace, and kissed, out of pure gratitude, those rugged and dusky men of Africa. “Enter, men, in the name of God. Command the kinsman of Amer, what ye will eat, and drink. But who is this little fellow—thy son, Simba?”
“No, Sheikh Sultan; he is Niani, Master Amer’s slave.”
“Is he the little fellow who used to play tricks upon Isa, son of Thani, Selim?”
“The same.”
“Come, child, to an old man’s arms!” said he, as he caught him up, and gave him a warm kiss.