East and West -- Fiction; Egypt -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Hostages -- Fiction
Her companions would not believe her, for they could see nothing, but
there are moments when our mortal senses are more acute than those who
have never put their whole heart and soul into them can ever realise.
Mrs. Belmont had already run down the rocky path, on the way to her
camel, before they could distinguish that which had long before carried
its glad message to her. In the van of the approaching party, three
white dots shimmered in the sun, and they could only come from the three
European hats. The riders were travelling swiftly, and by the time
their comrades had started to meet them they could plainly see that it
was indeed Belmont, Fardet, and Stephens, with the dragoman Mansoor, and
the wounded Soudanese rifleman. As they came together they saw that
their escort consisted of Tippy Tilly and the other old Egyptian
soldiers. Belmont rushed onwards to meet his wife, but Fardet stopped
to grasp the Colonel’s hand.
“_Vive la France! Vivent les Anglais!_” he was yelling. “_Tout va
bien, n’est ce pas_, Colonel? Ah, _canaille! Vivent la croix et
les Chretiens!_” He was incoherent in his delight.
The Colonel, too, was as enthusiastic as his Anglo-Saxon standard would
permit. He could not gesticulate, but he laughed in the nervous
crackling way which was his top-note of emotion.
“My dear boy, I am deuced glad to see you all again. I gave you up for
lost. Never was as pleased at anything in my life! How did you get
away?”
“It was all your doing.”
“Mine?”
“Yes, my friend, and I have been quarrelling with you--ungrateful wretch
that I am!”
“But how did I save you?”
“It was you who arranged with this excellent Tippy Tilly and the others
that they should have so much if they brought us alive into Egypt again.
They slipped away in the darkness and hid themselves in the grove.
Then, when we were left, they crept up with their rifles and shot the
men who were about to murder us. That cursed Moolah, I am sorry they
shot him, for I believe that I could have persuaded him to be a
Christian. And now, with your permission, I will hurry on and embrace
Miss Adams, for Belmont has his wife, and Stephens has Miss Sadie, so I
think it is very evident that the sympathy of Miss Adams is reserved for
me.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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