The Hakim was carefully prepared the next morning for his visit to his
patients, Sam making the preparations, even to the extent of having a
brass pot of boiling water for the razors.
"Seems a pity, sir," he said, as the three gentlemen sat together in the
tent, a turned-up case forming the barber's chair, upon which the doctor
took his seat; "master's got such a fine, thick head of hair."
"Operate, Sam, operate," said the doctor; and the next minute, comb in
one hand, scissors in the other, the man was snipping away, and the
doctor's crisp, dark hair fell rapidly over his shoulders and down about
him upon the cloth that had been spread.
Sam's cutting was clever enough, and a pretty good transformation was
produced even with the scissors, while, when the razor had done its
part, and the finishing touches had been given, the doctor passed his
hands over his head and then drew them over his long beard.
"Like a looking-glass?" said the professor drily.
"No, thanks. I know my features pretty well," was the reply. "I shall
not forget them."
"But don't you want to see the Hakim?"
"No," said the doctor quietly. "How many years older do I look, Frank?"
he added quickly.
"Twenty," was the prompt reply.
"Quite," said the professor.
"The clothes the Sheikh sent in, Sam," said the doctor, after giving a
nod of satisfaction. "Now then, let me finish the work, so that you may
see whether it will pass muster."
"I'll keep you company," said the professor, and he followed his friend
into the further tent, leaving Frank walking thoughtfully up and down,
passing and repassing the doorway, till his attention was caught by the
tall, stately figure of the Sheikh who was coming across from his own
place.
Frank hesitated a moment or two, and then he drew himself up and stood
waiting with folded arms till the Sheikh reached the entrance, and said
quietly--
"May I enter, O Excellency?"
"Yes, come in," cried the doctor from the inner tent, and the old Arab
bent a little as he came in, and then raised himself erect as he took a
step or two into the half light of the shady place, and stopped short
face to face with Frank, at whom for the first few moments he stood
staring without the slightest sign of recognition in his countenance,
while the youth resembled an ebony carving more than a living being.
"Hah!" said the Sheikh at last. "It is very good, Excellency, very
good. It would deceive me. I should not have known. But the dark
stain? Will it come off?"
Frank shook his head.
"Not if you used water?"
There was another shake of the head.
"It is good--more than good," said the Sheikh. "I have come over to
walk with the Hakim to see his sick people. Is he ready to go?"
Frank shook his head, and raising a hand slowly pointed to his mouth.
"Ah, I forgot that," said the old man, smiling gravely. "It is very
good indeed; but can you keep this painful silence?"
Frank bowed his head slowly, and pointed to the divan for the Sheikh to
take his seat, the young man preserving his erect position of respect
the while.
"It is soon to begin, Excellency," said the Sheikh smiling, "but you
must be Excellency no more till our work is done; only in my heart.
What name will you bear?"
"Frank!" cried the doctor from the inner tent, and the Sheikh smiled,
but the young man shook his head violently. "Tell the Sheikh I shall be
with him in a minute."
"I am waiting patiently, Excellency," said the old man aloud. Then
turning to Frank, "Suppose we say Ben Eddin?"
Frank nodded and smiled.
"Let it be so, then, Ben Eddin, my son, slave to the learned Hakim, with
whom you have been so long that you understand his Frankish tongue. I
have lain awake thinking many hours about the Hakim's other slave, and I
feel that it would be wise that he should be his Frankish slave. There
will be no mistake then. He can wear our burnoose and haik; they will
be enough. It is quite right that he should have brought a servant from
his own country. What say you, Ben Eddin?"
Frank bowed his head gravely at once, and the Sheikh smiled his
satisfaction, before springing up quickly, and forgetting his grave
manner he clapped his hands together, applauding, and then bowing low to
the grave and reverend Hakim who entered the tent slowly in flowing
white garments and voluminous turban, in front of which was fastened a
large, dark green scarab, a genuine treasure found by the professor in
the tomb of a man who was supposed to have been physician to one of the
Egyptian kings. It had been intended to form a brooch, and the doctor
had had it set in gold. This he had taken from among his curios as
being most suitable for the purpose in hand, and it took the Sheikh's
attention at once.
"Well, Ibrahim," said the doctor, slowly removing his turban as if to
place it more comfortably, but holding it long enough for the Arab to
see his closely shaven head; "do you think this will do?"
"It is perfect, Excellency," said the old man warmly. "It far exceeds
all I could have thought possible."
"So say I," cried the professor, entering now in travel-stained Egyptian
garments and muslin-covered fez.
"Excellent, too, Excellency," said the Sheikh. "And now you will keep
to this?"
"Of course. The Hakim is ready now to go round and see his sick."
The Sheikh bowed, and feeling a little nervous the party set off at
once, leaving Sam watching them from the door.
It was rather an ordeal, for they had not gone many paces towards the
first tent they were to visit before they were seen, and word seemed to
be passed quickly through the encampment, so that as they reached this
first tent several of the Sheikh's people appeared, while when they came
out of it again nearly everyone of those occupying the place had hurried
forth to stand watching.
But there was no look of wonder, no vestige of a smile, only respectful
looks and bending down as the little party passed on.
That first visit was a solemn one, for it was to the tent where they
were met by the mother of the little child, who led them to where her
little sufferer lay in its last sleep. She reverently pressed the
Hakim's extended hand to her forehead, her tear-filled eyes and
trembling lips seeming to say that she accepted patiently the blow which
had fallen during the night, and that the Great Physician was very wise.
Frank Frere felt more at his ease by the time the next tent was reached,
and perfectly satisfied when all was done. For he had played his part
of slave and assistant easily and well, holding water vessels, passing
bandage and lint, and standing by the sufferers while the Hakim tended
his patients with the greatest care.
For there was no wondering gaze. It seemed quite natural and right to
the sufferers, who were all doing well. The change in the dress of the
Hakim and his friends was only what might have been expected now that
their journey there was over, while Frank, the black slave, had the
satisfaction of feeling that he was not even recognised by those he
tended. He was the Hakim's dumb, black slave. The white assistant who
had helped the doctor the previous day was not present--that was all.
A couple of hours were taken up over the invalids, and they were left
out of pain and comforted by the Hakim's gentle hand, while when their
own tent was reached the Hakim was able to say that nothing could be
better than the state of his patients. With a couple more days'
attention they might be left to nature, and would soon be well.
That afternoon Sam set aside his English clothes and blossomed forth
into a showy-looking Arab, evidently feeling rather proud of his dress,
the most conspicuous part of which was a scarlet scarf broadly spread
around his waist, one which in an ordinary way would have been pretty
well hidden by the loose outer cotton robe, but which the man took ample
care should not have its brilliant tint eclipsed more than he could
help.
Naturally enough he sought the first opportunity he could find of
getting Frank alone in the tent, and began at once in rather a conscious
way.
"Beg pardon, sir," he said. "I mean, Ben Eddin. May I say Ben for
short?"