This runner was a splendid specimen of physical manhood. He was as black as coal, as graceful as Apollo, and apparently as powerful as Hercules,--if one might judge from the great muscles which stood out prominently on all his limbs, he wore but little clothing--merely a pair of short Arab drawers of white cotton, a red fez on his head, and a small tippet on his shoulders. Unlike negroes in general, his features were cast in a mould which one is more accustomed to see in the Caucasian race of mankind--the nose being straight, the lips comparatively thin, and the face oval, while his bearing was that of a man accustomed to command. The appearance of a few soldiers traversing the square drew the eyes of all in their direction, and caused a brief pause in the hum of conversation. Our friends, the captives, were in the midst of these soldiers, and beside them marched the negro interpreter whom they had first met with in the prison. At the door of the public building the soldiers drew up and allowed the captives to pass in, guarded by two officers and the interpreter. Inside they found a number of military men and dignitaries grouped around, conversing with a stern man of strongly marked features. This man--towards whom all of them showed great deference--was engaged when the captives entered; they were therefore obliged to stand aside for a few minutes. "Who is he?" asked Molloy of the negro interpreter. "Our great leader," said the negro, "the Mahdi." "What! the scoundrel that's bin the cause o' all this kick-up?" asked Jack Molloy, in surprise. The interpreter did not quite understand the seaman's peculiar language, but he seemed to have some idea of the drift of it, for he turned up his up-turned nose in scorn and made no reply. In a few minutes an officer led the captives before the Mahdi, who regarded them with a dark frown, directing his attention particularly to Jack Molloy, as being the most conspicuous member of the party, perhaps, also, because Molloy looked at him with an air and expression of stern defiance. Selecting him as a spokesman for the others, the Mahdi, using the negro as an interpreter, put him through the following examination:-- "Where do you come from?" he asked, sternly. "From Suakim," answered Molloy, quite as sternly. "What brought you here?" "Your dirty-faced baboons!" It is probable that the negro used some discretion in translating this reply, for the chief did not seem at all offended, but with the same manner and tone continued-- "Do you know the number of men in Suakim?" "Yes." "Tell me--how many?" To this Molloy answered slowly, "Quite enough--if you had only the pluck to come out into the open an' fight like men--to give you such a lickin' that there wouldn't be a baboon o' you left in the whole Soudan!"