The Emirs had intended to halt for a half-hour at the most, but the baggage-camels which bore the prisoners were so worn out with the long, rapid march, that it was clearly impossible that they should move for some time. They had laid their long necks upon the ground, which is the last symptom of fatigue. The two chiefs shook their heads when they inspected them, and the terrible old man looked with his hard-lined, rock features at the captives. Then he said something to Mansoor, whose face turned a shade more sallow as he listened. “The Emir Abderrahman says that if you do not become Moslem, it is not worth while delaying the whole caravan in order to carry you upon the baggage-camels. If it were not for you, he says that we could travel twice as fast. He wishes to know therefore, once for ever, if you will accept the Koran.” Then in the same tone, as if he were still translating, he continued: “You had far better consent, for if you do not he will most certainly put you all to death.” The unhappy prisoners looked at each other in despair. The two Emirs stood gravely watching them. “For my part,” said Cochrane, “I had as soon die now as be a slave in Khartoum!” “What do you say, Norah?” asked Belmont. “If we die together, John, I don't think I shall be afraid.” “It is absurd that I should die for that in which I have never had belief,” said Fardet. “And yet it is not possible for the honour of a Frenchman that he should be converted in this fashion.” He drew himself up, with his wounded wrist stuck into the front of his jacket, “_Je suis Chrétien. J'y reste,_” he cried, a gallant falsehood in each sentence. “What do you say, Mr. Stephens?” asked Mansoor, in a beseeching voice. “If one of you would change, it might place them in a good humour. I implore you that you do what they ask.” “No, I can't,” said the lawyer, quietly. “Well then, you, Miss Sadie? You, Miss Adams? It is only just to say it once, and you will be saved.” “Oh, Auntie, do you think we might?” whimpered the frightened girl. “Would it be so very wrong if we said it?” The old lady threw her arms round her. “No, no, my own dear little Sadie,” she whispered. “You'll be strong! You would just hate yourself for ever after. Keep your grip of me, dear, and pray if you find your strength is leaving you. Don't forget that your old aunt Eliza has you all the time by the hand.” For an instant they were heroic, this line of dishevelled, bedraggled pleasure-seekers. They were all looking Death in the face, and the closer they looked the less they feared him. They were conscious rather of a feeling of curiosity, together with the nervous tingling with which one approaches a dentist's chair. The dragoman made a motion of his hands and shoulders, as one who has tried and failed. The Emir Abderrahman said something to a negro, who hurried away. “What does he want a scissors for?” asked the Colonel.