On the third day of their march the Mamelukes reach their destination, and encamp on the banks of the Nile, near Gheezeh.
Early on the following morning an officer in a glittering uniform
rides into the Mameluke camp, accompanied by a small body-guard.
Bardissi recognizes the officer and joyously greets him, and Sheik
Arnhyn, who rides at his side.
"There comes the brave sarechsme, Mohammed Ali; he keeps his word, and comes to unite his forces with ours."
"A hearty welcome, Mohammed Ali; a hearty welcome from me, and from all of us!"
"A warm greeting to you, Bardissi!" cried Mohammed, extending his hand.
There they stood, hand-in-hand, gazing at each other thoughtfully and earnestly. The others had respectfully withdrawn.
"We are both thinking of the past, Osman Bey," said Mohammed, with a soft smile. "You see I have not forgotten the name you impressed on my memory at Cavalla."
"Nor have I forgotten your name, Mohammed Ali," replied Bardissi. "The boys who defied each other at Cavalla have become men, and friends, too, have they not, Mohammed?"
"Yes, friends, too, I hope, Bardissi; and I press your hand in token of my friendship."
"And I yours. I am your friend, and welcome you heartily to our camp. But where are your forces? We have assembled here to meet them; are they not coming?"