“Fighting, and you here? Why are not you at the head of the Mahdi’s
friends?”
“I--stayed--with you.”
“Come! where is my sword?”
“It is here; but don’t go out. You will be killed--the soldiers
wouldn’t join the Mahdi, and they are shooting the people down.”
“Give me my Winchester and my sword.”
“It is madness.”
“Well, I am the madcap,” laughed Max; “but if I wasn’t I’d scorn to be
a coward.”
“A coward?”
“Yes, I said so, and I repeat--a coward.”
“Why do you call me that? I have fought in the army of Egypt.”
“Perhaps so. But did you not stir up this riot and are now afraid----”
“I am not afraid; but is it policy to risk so much?”
“Risk all--if by that means you save your honor.”
“But the people have no chance against the soldiers.”
“All the more reason why you should not desert them.”
“See what it means to me--loss of property, perhaps life.”
“Do as you like, most excellent Shula, but I am going to fight.”
“It is madness!”
“Give me my rifle and my sword.”
Max seized the weapons and rushed into the street.
He saw the rioting, and felt that Shula was right--the people had but
scant chance.
That made Max all the more determined.
He waved his sword above his head and rushed into the thickest of the
fight.
“Long live the Mahdi!”
At the sight of the paleface the soldiers fell back.
“I am an American,” shouted Max, “but I am with you. The Mahdi is a
native of your country, he is no foreigner. Strike for him, and let
your cry be Egypt for the Egyptian, the Soudan for the Soudanese!”
The people lost their fear.
Like demons they sprang on the soldiers, but the soldiers did not
return the fire.
Instead, they reversed their guns and retired.
The Egyptian officer was enraged.
“I’ll shoot the first man who deserts!” he shouted.
A number of the soldiers again shouldered arms, but the majority kept
them reversed.
Max saw the advantage he had gained.
He caught the bridle of a horse whose rider had fallen in the mêlée.
Vaulting into the saddle, he looked proud and defiant as he sat there,
like a veritable centaur.
“Soldiers, you believe in Mahomet! Hark ye! I have fought with the
great Mahdi. I have seen the thousands of Fashoda beaten back when he
waved his wand. He has no need of sword or scimiter; he fights with his
eyes, and when he waves his hand, armies fall back.”
The enthusiasm was great.
Max had won over most of the soldiers, and the others were undecided.
The officer was furious.
“Ready!” he shouted, but very few of his men obeyed the call.
“Load! Aim! Fire!”
Half a dozen rifle shots were fired, but Max saw to his great joy that
the aim was too high to do any damage.
“Men! soldiers of the crescent!” he called out, “our fight is not
against you. The Mahdi is of your faith. Nay, more, he will restore the
great Mameluke kingdom. Every soldier of his will be greater than a
pasha, for the Mahdi is the last of the Mamelukes.”
The speech was listened to by soldiers and people, who wondered who
this young paleface could be.
The result was electrical.
Every rifle was reversed.
The officer was left alone to return to the fort--a commander without
soldiers.
At the time when Max so eloquently proclaimed the Mahdi, Mohammed
Achmet was close to the gates of the city. He heard the cheering and
the firing.
His face paled visibly, for he disliked bloodshed.
Half an hour later, riding between the Persian Sherif el Habib and the
Arab Mohammed, the Mahdi rode into the main street of Kordofan.
“The Mahdi!”
“The Mahdi has come!”
The cheers rose on the air.
Songs were sung--the soldiers fraternized with the people.
Everywhere the enthusiasm was intense.
Even the garrison joined in the cheering, and the officer handed his
sword to the Mahdi.
“I cannot fight without men,” he said, “so take my sword and use it for
truth and our faith.”
The Mahdi took the weapon, and immediately handed it back, saying:
“General, you are a brave man. Take the sword, for you will use it as
only a brave man can.”
The fires of joy were lighted.
Houses were thrown open, and everywhere the Mahdi was welcomed.
Mahmoud Achmet, when he saw that the Mahdi was triumphant, came to
offer the hospitality of his house to the conqueror.
Max recognized him, and after the man had said all he intended, came
forward.
“You threw a young man into the Nile. You enveloped him in a sack, and
drowned him.”
“It is he! I know it! The Mahdi is the Mahdi. He has raised this man
from the dead. All my wealth is his,” exclaimed Mahmoud.
Max saw the mistake the man had made. He, however, did not contradict
him, but allowed him to think that the power of the Mahdi had indeed
raised him from the dead.
He spoke privately to the Mahdi.
“Let him give me Lalla,” said Max.
“You spoke of your wealth,” said the Mahdi; “give this man the girl
called Lalla.”
Mahmoud fell to the ground.
He tore his hair and pulled out his beard.
“Woe is me, I cannot!”
“She is dead?” queried the Mahdi.
“Indeed it is true. _Inshallah!_”
Mahmoud then admitted that he was jealous of Max, and after throwing
him into the river, Lalla had refused to be comforted, had called him a
murderer, and refused to allow him to approach her. Then it was that in
his anger he ordered her to be drowned.
Max told of the brutal way in which Mahmoud acted.
The Mahdi called the pashas and beys together, and in the presence of a
great concourse of citizens, said:
“One of your number, Mahmoud Achmet, has at times made away with such
of his wives that displeased him. Now, therefore, to prove to you how
abhorrent such a thing is, it is my order that Mahmoud Achmet be taken
from here in the sack which he has provided for others, and that he be
thrown into the Nile.”
“Mercy!” cried the wealthy man--“mercy! I will give you wealth.”
“I do not want it.”
“All I have shall be yours!”
“It is mine already.”
One of the eunuchs connected with Mahmoud’s harem testified how the
wives were constantly beaten with whips.
“The same measure shall be meted out to Mahmoud,” said the Mahdi; “it
is fate.”
The man pleaded for his life, but the Mahdi was inexorable.
Mahmoud suffered the scourging from the hands of his own eunuch, and
was drowned in the Nile.
“It is fate! It is justice!” exclaimed the people, who were more than
ever enthused with the prophet and his cause.