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Farewell, sarechsme, if I should riot see you again! Farewell! and let me keep my vow!" She gently pushes him back, and flies out of the tent to meet her father. Sheik Arnhyn recognizes and hails her with a shout of delight. "Butheita, have you succeeded, have you guarded the stranger well?" "I have taken good care of him; come, father, and see!"
Bardissi recognizes the officer and joyously greets him, and Sheik Arnhyn, who rides at his side. "There comes the brave sarechsme, Mohammed Ali; he keeps his word, and comes to unite his forces with ours." "A hearty welcome, Mohammed Ali; a hearty welcome from me, and from all of us!" "A warm greeting to you, Bardissi!" cried Mohammed, extending his hand.
"Do you now understand, O sarechsme, why I caused you to be abducted from your camp by my friend Sheik Arnhyn? I did it partly on my own account, and partly out of friend ship for you. You look at me inquiringly; you do not understand! I will explain. Intelligence had been brought to me that, should Youssouf Bey be defeated, you were to march rapidly to his assistance.
You will find me at your tent by morning. If I am not there, Osman Bey Bardissi, you will know that the Bedouin sheik, Arnhyn, is no longer among the living, and that the sarechsme, Mohammed Ali, has been too shrewd for him." On the green fields of Gheezeh, near the verge of the yellow desert, lies Mohammed Ali encamped with his forces.
"An hour after sunset, this evening, have the dromedary in readiness, and, for yourself, the swiftest horse. At that hour we will depart." Night has come. The Bedouin chief, Arnhyn, has retired to rest. He is to start early in the morning with others of his tribe for Tantah, to take to market the wool of their black sheep, the cloth they have woven out of it, the goat-skins; and cheese.
If the three columns unite, the danger is multiplied; therefore, every thing depends on quick and resolute action. Youssouf Bey, Sheik Arnhyn informs us, is only two days' march distant Mohammed Ali, three. It seems to me, our plan should be to march against Youssouf, and vanquish him before Mohammed Ali can join him; we will then attack Mohammed Ali.
Mohammed hastens out into the garden to meet him. "Well, did you find the tent?" "Yes, master, the dromedary ran to it of its own accord." "And whom did you meet at the tent?" "The father, master the chief Arnhyn." Mohammed quickly averts his face the servant must not see that his lips quiver, that he grows pale. "You met the chief, and he was alone?"
Mohammed Ali also mounts his horse, but, before he turns, glances around, and sees the Bedouin sheik Arnhyn, who is about to mount his dromedary, and calls him to his side. "Well, Arnhyn, your dromedary is here, but I miss your daughter in the palanquin!" "She is at home in the tent awaiting my return, sarechsme!" "In her father's tent, still?" said Mohammed, smiling.
Mohammed vainly endeavors to cry out, to release his hands; he is securely bound, and his lips can utter no word. They stop at last, and Arnhyn speaks, but in such low tones that Mohammed can understand nothing. He only hears another voice replying. Then he is lifted high and deposited on a soft cushion.
To-morrow at the break of day we mount, and fly with the wings of the wind to meet the enemy. Allah and his holy hosts are with us." "Allah and his holy hosts are with us!" is the joyous cry repeated by the kachefs. Soon all is still in the camp of Damanhour. Men and horses are at rest. Bey Bardissi alone has not yet retired. He calls the Bedouin sheik, Arnhyn, to his side.
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