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Updated: June 5, 2025
David raised his head. "But with more rifles to fire away your ten thousand rounds" he tapped the paper on the table "and eat the eighty hundredweight of dourha, how long can we last?" "If they are to fight, and with full stomachs, and to stake everything on that one fight, then we can last two days. No more, I reckon." "I make it one day," answered David.
"And the cakes of dourha! I will give her as a parting gift the twenty slaves, and she shall bring her great work to a close in the arms of a slaver. It is worth a fortune." "It is worth exactly ten thousand pounds to your Highness ten thousand pounds neither more nor less." Ismail questioned. "Kingsley Bey would make last tribute of thus much to your Highness."
"How many hundredweight of dourha?" "Eighty about." "And how many mouths to feed?" "Five thousand." "How many fighters go with the mouths?" "Nine hundred and eighty-of a kind." "And of the best? "Well, say, five hundred." "Thee said six hundred three days ago, Lacey." "Sixty were killed or wounded on Sunday, and forty I reckon in the others, Saadat." The dark eyes flashed, the lips set.
Thou shalt join me far from here if I go to the Soudan," he added, with a sudden remembrance of his position; and he turned away slowly. After a moment, with muttered words, Achmet sank down upon the stone again, drew a cake of dourha from his inner robe, and began to eat.
More than once his death had been planned, but the dark design had come to light now from the workers of the bazaars, whose wires of intelligence pierced everywhere; now from some hungry fellah whose yelek he had filled with cakes of dourha beside a bread-shop; now from Mahommed Hassan, who was for him a thousand eyes and feet and hands, who cooked his food, and gathered round him fellaheen or Copts or Soudanese or Nubians whom he himself had tested and found true, and ruled them with a hand of plenty and a rod of iron.
Then he had broken a cake of dourha bread on the roof for the pigeons above him, and had come down grinning to the street, where a hesitating mounted policeman fumbled with his weapon, and four ghaffirs waited for him with their naboots.
Laying down the water-jar, and the plate of dourha bread, old Fatima gathered her robe about her, and cried as she ran from the house: "Marriage and fantasia thou shalt have this hour." The stiffness seemed to pass from her bones as she ran through the village to the house of the Omdah.
He saw the faint trouble in her eyes and face, and he made up his mind that he would work while it was yet the day. He was about to speak, but she suddenly interposed a question. "Is he comfortable? How does he take it?" "Why, all right. You know the kind of thing: mud walls and floor quite dry, of course and a sleeping-mat, and a balass of water, and cakes of dourha, and plenty of time to think.
He saw the faint trouble in her eyes and face, and he made up his mind that he would work while it was yet the day. He was about to speak, but she suddenly interposed a question. "Is he comfortable? How does he take it?" "Why, all right. You know the kind of thing: mud walls and floor quite dry, of course and a sleeping-mat, and a balass of water, and cakes of dourha, and plenty of time to think.
Then he had broken a cake of dourha bread on the roof for the pigeons above him, and had come down grinning to the street, where a hesitating mounted policeman fumbled with his weapon, and four ghaffirs waited for him with their naboots.
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