Colonel Spottiswoode clapped his hands and shouted: "Wahid! Mahomet."
"Effendi," Mahomet Mansour answered promptly, and went running through the gate.
"Here, Mahomet, take these letters to the post office."
"Very good, Effendi." The russet Berberine started briskly, his pink gown flapping out behind.
"Hold up," the Colonel called; "has that man come with the feathers?"
"Him no come, Effendi. Him maybe come soon."
The Colonel glanced at his watch. "I can't wait."
"Him come." Mahomet's obsequious face betrayed no symptom of his anxiety, "Effendi will wait."
Said glanced uneasily at Mahomet. Both of these honest servants knew that Ibrahim waited, around the corner, until he should be sent for when his customer had become too impatient to make a successful barter. "Him come bimeby, bimeby," Mahomet assured his master, glancing along the river bank to a group of barges where the Ingleezi devil-boat was already belching up smoke before it started for the Shilluk country.
"Reinhardt! Oh, Reinhardt!" Colonel Spottiswoode called to the German. "Reinhardt, I couldn't trade with your friend in Omdurman, so
