rest of the caravan was concealed! Idris thought the same. When he collected himself he ran to Stas, with face ashen from terror, and, kneeling at his feet, began to repeat in a voice out of breath:
"Sir, I was kind to you! I was kind to the little 'bint'! Remember that!"
Stas mechanically extracted the cartridges from the barrels and gazed. The riders drove horses and camels at the fullest speed, shouting from joy and flinging upwards their long Arabian rifles, which they caught while in full gallop with extraordinary dexterity. In the bright transparent air they could be seen perfectly. In the middle, at the van, ran the two Bedouins waving their hands and burnooses as if possessed.
After a few minutes the whole band dashed to the caravan. Some of the riders leaped off the horses and camels; some remained on their saddles, yelling at the top of their voices. Amid these shouts only two words could be distinguished.
"Khartûm! Gordon! Gordon! Khartûm!"
Finally one of the Bedouins—the one whom his companion called Abu-Anga—ran up to Idris cringing at Stas' feet, and began to exclaim:
"Khartûm is taken! Gordon is killed! The Mahdi is victorious!"
Idris stood erect but did not yet believe his ears.
"And these men?" he asked with quivering lips.
"These men were to seize us, but now are going together with us to the prophet."
Stas' head swam.
