But at that the reactionary party became louder and fiercer than before. "Our Prophet," cried one, "has commanded us not to seek war and not to begin it. But he has also told us that if war is waged against Islam we are to resist it under penalty of being ourselves as unbelievers, and to follow up those who assail us without pity and without remorse. Therefore, if the English close our holy El Azhar, they will be waging war on our religion, and by the Most High God, we win fight them to the last man, woman, and child." At that instant Hafiz, who had been trembling in an obscure seat by the door, rose to his feet and said in a nervous voice, addressing his uncle— "Eminence, may I say something?" "Speak, son of my sister," said the Chancellor. "It is about Colonel Lord," said Hafiz. "If you refuse to close El Azhar, an order to force you to do so will be issued to the military, and Colonel Lord will be required to carry it into effect." "Well?" "He is the friend of the Muslemeen, your Eminence, but if you resist him he will be compelled to kill you." "Wouldn’t it be well to say ’With God’s permission’?" said the man with the injured eye, whereupon Hafiz wheeled round on him and answered hotly— "He has the bayonets and he has the courage, and if you fight him there won’t be so much as a rat among you that will be left alive." There was a moment of tense and breathless silence, and then Hafiz, now as nervous as before, said quietly— "On the other hand, if he refuses to obey his orders he will lose his place and rank as a soldier. Which of these do you wish to see, your Eminence?" There was another moment of breathless silence, and then Ishmael Ameer, who had not spoken before, said in his quivering voice— "Let us call on God to guide us, my brothers—in tears and in fervent prayer, all night long in the mosque, until His light shines on us and a door of hope has opened." *CHAPTER XX* As Gordon returned to barracks the air of the native section of the city seemed to tingle with excitement. The dirty, unpaved streets with their overhanging tenements were thronged. Framed portraits of Ishmael Ameer, with candles burning in front of them, were standing on the counters of nearly all the cafés, and the men squatting on the benches about were chanting the Koran. One man, generally a blind man, with his right hand before his ear, would be reciting the text, and at the close of every Surah the others would cry "Allah! Allah!"