One of the Bedouins, whom his companion called Abu Anga, at last rushed up to Idris, who was crouching at Stasch’s feet, and cried:
“Khartum has fallen! Gordon is dead! The Mahdi is triumphant!”
Idris stood up, but did not believe his ears.
“And these people?” he asked, his lips trembling.
“These people were supposed to capture us, but now they are going to accompany us to the prophet.”
Everything grew dark before Stasch’s eyes.
CHAPTER XIII
The last hope of escaping during the journey had entirely disappeared. Stasch knew that nothing he could think of would now be of any avail; he realized that the searching parties would not overtake them, and that if they survived the fatigue of the journey, they would reach the Mahdi and be surrendered to Smain. His only comforting thought was that they were being carried off for Smain to exchange them for his children. But when would that take place, and what would they have to endure beforehand? What terrible fate awaited them in the midst of a bloodthirsty, savage tribe? Whether Nell would be able to stand the fatigue and privations no one could tell. On the other hand, it was certain that the Mahdi and his Dervishes hated Christians and Europeans; and so in the boy’s heart there arose a fear as to whether Smain’s influence would be powerful enough to protect them against defamation, mistreatment, cruelty, and the rage of the Mahdists, who murdered even Mohammedans who were loyal to the government. For the first time since they were carried off Stasch gave himself up to despair, and a somewhat superstitious expectation that misfortune was following them took possession of him. For was not the idea of carrying them off from Fayoum and bringing them to Khartum in itself perfect madness, that only stupid and savage people like Idris and Gebhr would entertain, because they did not consider that they had to travel thousands of kilometers in a land that was under Egyptian, or, more strictly speaking, under English, control? If things had gone as they naturally should, they would have been found the very next day; as things were, they were now in the vicinity of the second cataract. None of the other caravans sent to search for them had overtaken them, and the members of the last one which might have held them up had even joined their kidnappers and placed themselves at their service. Stasch’s despair, and his anxiety as to what would be the fate of little Nell, was augmented by his feeling of humiliation that up to this time none of his plans had succeeded, and what was worse, that he could not devise new ones, for even though the gun and cartridges had been returned to him, he could not shoot down all the Arabs now in the caravan.
These thoughts troubled him all the more because deliverance had been so very near. If Khartum had not fallen, or had fallen only a few days later, the same people who had now gone over to the Mahdi’s side would have captured the kidnappers and delivered them over to the government. Stasch, sitting behind Idris on the camel and listening to their conversation, soon convinced himself that this would certainly have been the course; for no sooner had they started on again than the leader of the pursuing party began to tell Idris what had caused them to betray the Khedive. They had known that a large army, not Egyptian, but English, under command of General Wolseley, had gone toward the south to fight against the Dervishes. They had seen a number of boats which the terrible English had taken from Assuan to Wadi Halfa, where a railroad was being built to convey their soldiers as far as Abu Hammed. For some time all sheiks on the banks of the Nile—those who remained true to the government as well as those who secretly sympathized with the Mahdi—were convinced that the destruction of the Dervishes and of their prophet was inevitable, for no one had ever conquered the English.
“Allah Akbar!” interrupted Idris, as he raised his hands in the air, “and yet they have been conquered!”