"His Excellency's words are dark," said the Sheikh, in a low, deep voice. "He speaks of dangers, and of the Mahdi's men, and of fighting with cunning. Will he not fully trust his servant, and make his words and wishes shine with the light of day? Does his Excellency wish to play the spy upon the new Mahdi's movements?" "No," said the professor firmly. The Sheikh drew a long breath which sounded like a sigh of relief. "I am glad," he said softly, "for their lives are dear to my young men. They have their wives and little ones, and the followers of the Mahdi seek blood. What would the learned Englishman who loves the stone writings of the ancient people do amongst the conquering spearmen of the prophet's chosen one?" "Answer this, Ibrahim: Do you believe this new Mahdi or Khalifa is the chosen one of the prophet?" The Sheikh laughed softly. "Thy servant thought much when he was young, and all his life he has had dealings with the wise men from the west who have come here from many countries to see and seek out what the old people left buried in the sands of time. He could not help, as he saw the wonders they brought to light, and sat in the same tent with them, growing wiser and thinking in their tongue. He has seen, too, again and again, fresh prophets rise to utter the same cry, `Lo, O people, I am the prophet's chosen, sent to free the country from the heathen Christian dog.' And it has always been the same: the people cry aloud and believe and follow him to the fight always to kill and destroy, to make slaves, and to pass like a flight of locusts across the land, and the new prophet eats and drinks and makes merry till he dies like the thousands he has killed; but he does not carry out his boast, and another arises and cries, `Lo, I am the chosen of the prophet. Upon me does the Mahdi's mantle fall.' Excellency, I am a man of the desert, but there is wisdom even amongst the sand, and I have picked up some, enough to know when false prophets come amongst the people. No; I do not believe the new Mahdi is the chosen one. He is only another man of blood. Why does my master ask? Why does he wish to run where there is danger to him and his friends-- danger to us who would be his guides?" "Listen," said the professor, and in a few well-chosen words he told the old Sheikh of Harry Frere's unhappy fate. "Hah!" ejaculated the old Arab, after hearing the speaker to the end. "Yes; I have heard of this before. With mine own eyes I saw the German who escaped, and it was said that there was a young Englishman out yonder, a slave. And he is your brother, my lord?" he continued, turning quickly upon Frank. "Yes; my brother, whom I have come here to save." "It is good," said the Arab slowly. "But I hear that an army is going south to fight the Khalifa."