“Idris,” said Stasch, “I am not speaking to Chamis, whose head is as empty as a gourd bottle, nor to Gebhr, who is an infamous jackal, but to you; I know that you want to bring us to the Mahdi and deliver us over to Smain. But if you are doing it to gain money, then know that this little girl’s father is richer than all the Sudanese together.”
“And what does that mean?” interrupted Idris.
“What does it mean? Return of your own free will and the great Mehendisi will not be sparing of his money, neither will my father.”
“Or they will hand us over to the government, and we will be hanged.”
“No, Idris. You will certainly be hanged if you are caught in your flight—that is sure to happen. But if you return voluntarily you will not be punished; moreover, you will be rich men till the end of your days. You know that the white people of Europe always keep their word. And I give you the word of honor of both Mehendisi that it is so, and that it will be as I say.”
Stasch was really convinced that his father and Mr. Rawlison would a thousand times rather keep the promise he made than to let them both, especially Nell, take such a terrible journey and lead a still more terrible life in the midst of the savage and angry tribes of the Mahdi. So he waited with beating heart for Idris to answer, but the latter was wrapt in silence; and after a while he merely said:
“You say the father of the little girl and yours would give us a great deal of money?”
“That is so.”
“And would all their money be able to unlock the gates of Paradise for us, which the blessing of the Mahdi opens?”
“Bismillah!” hereupon cried the two Bedouins and Gebhr and Chamis.