For no sooner had he done so than Shula sent out for three of his most
particular friends and bade them hasten to his house.
Rashid, who looked more like a Jew than an Egyptian, was the first, and
he stared at Max with eyes which seemed to glitter with hate.
He was quickly followed by Barbasson, whose skin had been changed from
olive to almost black through exposure to the sun.
Barbasson was the owner of a number of Dahabeahs, and he imagined Max
to be some wealthy foreigner who was desirous of engaging a Dahabeah
for business or pleasure.
He had scarcely made his salaam before Nasr el Adin, a Persian, entered
and embraced Shula most warmly.
The door was closed, curtains of heavy chenille were drawn round the
room and everything done to prevent the slightest sound being heard on
the outside.
“We ought to remove our shoes,” said Shula, “for this illustrious one
is a messenger from the Mahdi.”
The three visitors rose to their feet, salaamed very low, and murmured
some words of prayer.
“The Mahdi is coming,” said Max, “but are you ready?”
“What are we to do?”
“Raise his standard over Kordofan.”
“But the soldiers?” Rashid interjected.
“Are you afraid of them? I saw the Mahdi ride into the midst of an
army; he had no weapon, the guns were firing, the swords and spears
clashed around him and over his head, but he merely smiled and bade
them cease their strife. And you in his name ought to be strong. Will
you not raise his flag?”
“We will.”
“What does it matter if a few are killed, they will die in a great
cause. You have been robbed by Khartoum, pillaged by Egypt and taxed by
Turkey. England now wants a share, and what will you have left?”
“Nothing.”
“The Mahdi can save you. He will be ruler of Egypt, of Turkey and the
whole of the Mohammedan world. The crescent and star will float above
all other flags, for the Mahdi will be prince of princes and shah of
shahs.”
“_Allah il Allah_ be praised.”
“_Inshallah!_”
“We will do it,” exclaimed Nasr el Adin, so emphatically that no
opposition was offered. A plan was adopted by which on the third day
all the followers of the four wealthy citizens should revolt and raise
the standard of the Mahdi.
In the meantime Max was advised to remain quiet. It was not thought
wise for him to interfere, as some thought it might be said he was
a foreigner, and of alien faith, and therefore at work against the
interests of the religion, while wearing the garb of the prophet.
Max had sown the seed, and he had no desire to gather the fruit. He was
quite willing that others should do that.
So he fell in with the views of Rashid, Barbasson and Nasr el Adin, and
agreed to remain quiet in the city, while they kindled the torch of
revolt.
Max slept well that night. It had been many months since he reposed in
a regular bed in a comfortable room, with both male and female servants
to minister to his needs.
True, the females were not lovely. They were very old, exceedingly ugly
and bad tempered, but they did the work.
It was noon the next day before Max ventured forth into the streets.
He left the city and followed the course of the Nile.
A huge crocodile was basking on the bank, and looked lazily at Max, who
returned the gaze, and wondered whether he ought to attack the peculiar
animal or not.
While he was looking at the reptile a girl, unveiled, ran screaming
past him, followed by a fat, ugly-looking man.
Max thought that it was a case of father chastising his daughter, but
even then his blood boiled with indignation, for the girl was too old
to receive corporal punishment.
The man overtook the girl and struck her over the shoulders with his
cane.
At the same instant Max found he could not restrain the muscles of his
arm, and his clinched fist managed to come in contact with the fat
man’s nose, causing that organ to bleed with refreshing copiousness,
and inducing its owner to lie on the ground on his back.
It was a curious accident--for so Max called it--but the girl did not
hurry to assuage the grief of her fallen foe, but rather turned her
black eyes in the direction of Max.
He then saw that she was really pretty.
Her olive skin, her long, black eyelashes overhanging sparkling dark
eyes, made her quite a pretty feature in the landscape.
The fat man lay on the ground with no inclination to resume the
perpendicular while Max was around.
The girl started running away, but Max called to her to stop.
He wanted to know her name, at least.
He was an American, and did not realize how different were the customs
of Egypt.
She ran swiftly, but Max could outrun her.
She smiled when he got alongside her.
As she did so she revealed two rows of shiny, pearly teeth that really
added to her beauty.
“Thank you, but it was very wrong,” she said, with charming _naïveté_.
“What was wrong, mademoiselle?”
She smiled.
“You know you shouldn’t.”
“What?”
“Have knocked him down.”
“But he shouldn’t have struck you.”
“I was wrong. I went out without a veil.”
“As ladies always do in my country,” said Max.
“Do they? Isn’t that nice?”
Turning round they saw that the fat man had risen, and was following
them.
“Go,” she said.
“Not until you tell me where you live and your name.”
“My name is Lalla. I live----But what good to tell you?--I shall never
see you again.”
“Jewilikins! Hark at that! Not see me? Of course you will.”
“No, no, no! you must not; good-by--I live--here.”
She had stopped in front of a small gate in a very big wall.
“You do? May I come and see you?”
She laughed so boisterously that Max caught the contagion and laughed
as well.
“No; what absurdity--I am going to be married----”
The gate opened, and Lalla slipped in and closed it again so quickly
that Max could not get even the slightest glimpse of what was on the
other side.
“Never mind, I will when his nibs goes in,” thought Max.
But again he was mistaken, for the old party, looking quite
disreputable in his blood-stained clothes, dodged in just as
expeditiously as the girl had done.
“I’ll be hanged if I’ll be treated this way!” said Max. “I’ll see over
that wall, or I’ll know the reason why.”
He looked for a good climbing place, and found a better one than he
expected.
“Here goes--Mahdi or no Mahdi,” he said, as he commenced climbing the
wall.
When he reached the top he saw an elegant estate.
The lawn was as beautiful as Central Park, and a number of fountains
were sending up continuous sprays of water, which the slight breeze
scattered over the turf, keeping the grass green and soft.
A large house stood in the center, and near to its main entrance stood
Lalla.
She was motioning to Max to go back, but he would not understand her
signals.
He quietly dropped from the wall to the ground, and sheltered himself
behind a clump of euphorbia.
He was afraid that his presence might be known, and that he would be
expelled from the grounds.
He was determined to speak with Lalla, and did not see why it should be
considered wrong to do so.
He knew how the Eastern women were guarded, and that if he were caught
his life might be the forfeit, but he was Madcap Max still.
He saw the fat old party waddle along the driveway and enter the house.
“I wonder if he will beat her?” thought Max. “Jewilikins! if he does,
I’ll break into his place and steal her away--that I will!”
But it soon became evident that his position would be an unpleasant
one.
Either Lalla or the fat old party had determined to drive him from the
grounds.
A dozen male servants of the great man who owned the estate started
down the steps of the portico and made straight for the euphorbia.
The gate was fastened.
The wall was too high to climb on short notice.
Max saw his peril.
If caught----
“But I won’t be,” he said to himself, very emphatically.
“Shall I break cover now, or wait until they are close upon me?” he
asked himself, and answered:
“Wait until they are close upon you. They will be tired, you fresh;
then race them for all that it is worth.”
The men ran as if the very old bogey of ancient romance was after them.
When they reached the euphorbia hedge Max stood ready.
They were only half a dozen yards away from him, but had separated
themselves so that they might surround him and thus effect an easy
capture.
He saw their maneuver and made a spring forward--going toward the house
instead of away from it.
As he passed at a bound the eunuch waiting for him, Max put out his
left foot and tripped the fellow up.
As ill luck would have it--or perhaps it was Max’s good luck--the man
fell on his face in a bed of _euphorbia splendens_, a plant commonly
known as the “crown of thorns.”
The sharp thorns tore the man’s face in a criss-cross fashion and made
him wish he had never been born.
Max was now pursued by the others.
He ran fast, and when he saw an opportunity, doubled on his pursuers.
Two of them he tripped up, and thus gained another advantage.
He thought if he kept by the wall he would be able to find some means
of exit.
But again he was mistaken.
He, however, found something he did not bargain for, and that was a
trap or cellar door.
It was open.
Max did not see it.
It did not require a great exercise of his reasoning powers, or even
much knowledge of the rules of logic, to comprehend the result.
He fell through the open door.