It was only during the journey that the narrative of the adventures of the two little travelers began. Stas, at one time prone to be a trifle boastful, now did not brag at all. He simply had performed too many great deeds, he had undergone too much, and was too developed not to understand that words should not be greater than acts. There was, after all, enough of deeds, though related in the most modest manner. Each day during the scorching "white hours" and at evening during the stops there glided before the eyes of Captain Glenn and Doctor Clary pictures, as it were, of those occurrences and incidents through which the children had passed. So they saw the kidnapping from Medinet-el-Fayûm and the awful journey on camel-back across the desert—and Khartûm and Omdurmân, resembling hell on earth, and the ill-boding Mahdi. When Stas related his reply to the Mahdi, when the latter tried to induce him to change his faith, both friends rose and each of them warmly shook Stas' right hand, after which the captain said:
"The Mahdi is not living!"
"The Mahdi is not living?" Stas repeated with astonishment.
"Yes," spoke out the doctor. "He choked himself with his own fat, or, in other words, he died of heart trouble, and the succession of his government has been assumed by Abdullahi."
A long silence ensued.
"Ha!" said Stas. "He did not expect when he despatched us for our destruction to Fashoda that death would first overtake him."
And later he added:
"But Abdullahi is still more cruel than the Mahdi."
"For that reason mutinies and massacres have already begun," the captain replied, "and the whole edifice
