“Well, what of that? Some refuse for which the Nile was the best place.” “Possibly. Only I was curious. I fished up the bundle and found----” “What?” “A most lovely girl.” “The prophet be praised! Was she dead?” “Not much. She told me her story. How one of your wives took a great dislike to her----” “One of my wives?” “Yes; the girl was called Leila.” Barbasson was about to speak, but Shula stopped him. “I liked Leila. I found she was pretty and good, and I took her into my harem.” “That is your business. What is it to me?” “You said you had a horror of death, but you threw Leila into the water.” “Bah! that was only a girl--and they are not missed.” Barbasson suggested--when he had got over his annoyance--that secret agents should be sent out and that riots should be organized. Then, when every part of the city of Kordofan was in disorder, Shula should come forward and proclaim the advent of the Mahdi. This was agreed upon, and the conspirators, now joined by Rashid and Nasr el Adin, started on their homeward journey. “What was that?” Shula suddenly exclaimed, as a splash was heard in the water. “A crocodile, most likely.” “Pish! there are no crocodiles so near the city.” “I suppose it is some recalcitrant from yonder harem.” “What! Mahmoud Achmet?” “Yes; he drowns a dozen girls a month.” “The prophet will stop all that.” “I hope so.” “It depends. Mahmoud Achmet pays most of the expenses of the government here, and he is never molested for beating or drowning his wives. Of course, he never touches a man.” Such was the state of morality in the Soudan at the time that a woman’s life was considered of no more value than that of a dog or any common animal. A man got angry with his wife or daughter, and he could drown her, providing he did it decently--that is, place her body in a sack, with some heavy weights, so that the body should not rise to the surface. While the conspirators were discussing the morality of Mahmoud Achmet, their eyes were strained in an endeavor to discover what had caused the splashing sound. A dark object was seen, and Shula, who was more humane than the majority of Kordofans, stepped into a boat anchored by the bank, and pushed out in the stream. He made a prod with the boat hook, and managed to stick it in the canvas sack. He towed it to land, and soon opened the sack. He expected to find some discarded wife of Mahmoud Achmet, and hoped she would be young and pretty, because by the laws she would be his slave. To his astonishment--and equally so to the surprise of the other--instead of a woman the sack contained a man, and that man our young friend--Madcap Max. Max was unconscious. When he had been thrown into the river so unceremoniously he struggled all he knew how to free himself. What could he do? He struggled, but the sack was securely fastened. His body was doubled so that he could not use his hands to tear the bag or strike out. In two minutes he had relinquished all hope.