In London as well as Constantinople, in Paris alike with Cairo, the people could talk of nothing but the wonderful advance of the Mahdi. Mohammed Ahmed was shrewd. He knew that his victory would rouse all the animosity of the Egyptians and Turks against him. A delay would be dangerous. The Soudan must be his, and that at once. He called together his chosen friends and told them that the victory must be followed up by still greater victories. Sherif el Habib, full of the religious devotion which made men rejoice in being martyrs, advised the instant march on Khartoum. “The presence of the Mahdi is enough; all men must acknowledge your mission,” he said, and really believed that the Mahdi could scatter his enemies by a mere word. But the prophet shook his head. “No, my friend, Allah works by men’s hands, and it is only by the sword that the prince of darkness can be crushed. To march now would be to invite defeat.” Max opened his mouth to speak, but remained silent. “Speak, my son,” said the Mahdi. Max blushed a deep crimson as he was thus addressed. “I am the youngest here and I may offend,” he replied, modestly. “Thou canst not offend me. Speak just as you think. I will hear all and condemn not.” The madcap was emboldened, and clearing his throat made, for him, a long speech. “I left Cairo on a special mission of my own,” he began. “Fate, or, as you would say, Allah, guided me to you. I have fought under your banner.” “And right bravely, too,” the Mahdi interjected. “I don’t believe in your religion, but I know that you”--looking at the Mahdi--“are by a long shot the best man in the Soudan to-day. As Englishmen have joined your enemies, I don’t see why I should not join you, and I’ll be hanged if it isn’t a good work you are engaged in. Now, I’ve got an idea--just forget that you are the Mahdi and, to put it plainly, a rebel----Oh, don’t wince; George Washington, the greatest man who ever lived, was a rebel until he was successful, then he was a patriot.” “I have already told you to speak as you think,” said Mohammed Ahmed. “I shall not be offended.” “My plan is this: Let some one go secretly to Khartoum, to Kordofan, and Senaar, and preach rebellion. Let whoever goes rouse the people--talk to them of the way they have been robbed, and then spring upon them the idea that you, their Mahdi, will deliver them. You see, by this means you would have friends waiting for you in each place.” “That is good, my son, but the messengers may be killed.” “Very likely. When I took up the sword I just said to myself: ‘Max, old fellow, make your will, reconcile yourself to your enemies, and go in a buster.’” Although the slangy manner in which Max spoke seemed incoherent, his hearers knew that he was in earnest, and that the plan was a good one. “Better leave out Khartoum,” said the prophet; “let the plan be worked in other places first.” “The plan is a good one,” said Sherif el Habib, “but who could carry it out?”