Chapter Twenty Five.
Miles is promoted—Molloy overthrows the Mahdi, and is elevated for so doing.
Next day Miles Milton became painfully aware of the fact that his life in captivity was not to be one of ease or idleness.
Soon after daybreak the door of his prison creaked on its ponderous hinges, and he started up from the mat on which he had slept without covering of any kind. His visitor was the Mahdi’s runner, who, after closing the door, came and sat down beside him, cross legged à la Turk and tailor.
For a brief space the handsome black stared steadily at Miles, who returned the compliment as steadily, not being sure whether curiosity or insolence lay at the foundation of the stare.
“Englishmin,” said the runner at last, “you is unfortnit.”
“I am indeed,” returned Miles; “at the same time I am fortunate in so unexpectedly finding one who recognises the fact, and who can tell me so in my own tongue. May I venture to hope that you are friendly towards me?”
“Yes; I am your friend, but my friendness can do for you not’ing. Like youself, I am captive—slave. But in my own land I was a chief, and friend of the great and good Gordon, so I is friend to all Englishmin. Once I was ’terpreter to Gordon, but the Mahdi came. I fell into his hands, and now I do run befront his horse, an’ hold de stirrup! I comes to you from the Mahdi wid bad news.”
“Indeed! But I need not wonder. You could scarcely come from him with good news. What have you to tell?”