第 4 页

"Then there is indeed no hope," exclaimed Roden hoarsely. "If we must die, let us die bravely. I, for one, will not surrender to be butchered like these cowards who have betrayed us."

"Well spoken, lad," said Godfrey, "and if it comes to the worst we will do as you suggest. But there is a possible loophole of escape left —- a mighty slim one, though. Stick fast to your rifle and ammunition. This way now."

He led the boys carelessly toward the rear of the camp, past the heaps of baggage, at which they looked sadly and enviously.

They attracted little or no attention. In fact, their presence had been almost forgotten by the Arabs and Somalis, who were now swarming upon the ramparts and throwing their rifles toward the approaching dervishes.

Under cover of the confusion, the little party safely gained the river shore, and there halted for a brief moment in perplexity. In front was the enemy, and behind the swift, impassable tide. To right and left lay level tracts of moonlit sand, stretching away into the misty night.

"Looks blue," muttered Roden. There's no cover in sight anywhere."

"Not even a hump of sand," added Arthur. "Hullo! what's that?"

He eagerly pointed with one hand.

"Camels, by Jove!" Godfrey whispered excitedly. Sure enough, a little bunch of the quadrupeds stood by the river's brink, about one hundred yards up stream. Either they had been overlooked before, or had lately strayed from the main herd.

"There's a chance for us," Godfrey added. "There can't be less than four or five of the animals. If we can get to them without attracting observation we'll be all right."

"I'm game for a trial," whispered Roden.

"So am I," added Arthur.

"Here goes, then," Godfrey replied. "It's deuced risky, but it's that or nothing."

With a few hasty words of warning, he led his companions forward. As soon as they were clear of the rear wall of the camp, they bent nearly double and ran fleetly along the edge of the river.

A minute passed without bringing the dreaded sounds of pursuit. The chances of escape began to loom up brightly.

But just when the goal was nearly reached, the camels wheeled about, and dashed swiftly over the sand toward the main herd.

This was a truly disheartening blow. The fugitives stood still, and looked sadly after the retreating animals. They were too stunned even to speak.

They saw, by the bright moonlight, the horde of dervishes swarm over the ramparts into the camp. They heard the mingling voices of captors and captured. Then a shrill clamor and outcry warned them that they were losing precious moments.

"Since we have lost the camels we must trust to our legs!" exclaimed Godfrey. "That racket means we have been missed. They will be after us like bloodhounds."

Alas! the treacherous moonlight had already shown the three outlined figures to Safid Pasha and his followers. Out from the shadow of the camp sped half a score of eager pursuers.

The fugitives dashed away at full speed, but they were no match for their fleet-footed, half-naked foes. Nearer and nearer came the yelling "Fuzzies," bounding like antelopes over the sand: Godfrey was slightly in advance, and when a misstep sent him sprawling to the ground, his companions fell over him.

All three were quickly on their feet, but not to continue the flight. To die hard was the only thing left, so they wheeled grimly about in the face of the murderous negroes.

At a distance of less than ten feet they opened fire, jerking the triggers madly and desperately.

It was a grim satisfaction to see two of the wretches go down, biting the sand in their death agonies. A mist of powder smoke hid the scene, and then out of it leaped the yelling dervishes. But, strange to say, they showed quarter instead of glutting their swords in the blood of the hapless little party.

After a brief hand to-hand struggle Godfrey and his companions were disarmed and securely pinioned with thongs of camel hide.

They looked at one another in mute amazement, hardly able to realize that they were still alive.

For what terrible fate had they been reserved? There was no hopeful answer to the question in the ferocious -visaged faces of the dervishes. It was certain that they had not shown mercy by their own free will.

But the unexpected leniency was made clear a moment later, when Safid Pasha came hastily over the sand to the spot.

* * *

Chapter VI

He uttered a few words to the dervishes that caused them to fall apart. Then he folded his arms, and sur veyed the prisoners with a pleased and mocking smile.

"You look discontented," he said. "Truly, misfortune has been yours this night, since your own followers turned against you. But at least you should be grateful to me for sparing your lives."

"Grateful?" exclaimed Godfrey, in a scornful tone.

"I know the value of your mercy, Safid Pasha. If you have spared our lives it is only to reserve us for a worse fate. Better had we died fighting."

"Yonder craven cowards would gladly exchange places with you," replied the Egyptian, pointing to the camp. "It is well that you slipped away from them. Behold the fate which they justly merit.

He drew a pistol from his belt and fired two shots in the air.

This was evidently a prearranged signal. Instantly a fearful hubbub arose from the camp. Yells of savage triumph and the dull crash of swords on flesh and bone mingled with agonizing and blood-curdling screams.

No words were needed to tell the tale. The dervishes had fallen upon the hapless prisoners, and were butchering them without mercy.

As the horrid carnage continued Roden and Arthur shuddered violently, and averted their eyes from the spot. They would have given much to be able to stop their ears.

The half-score of dervishes who had captured God frey and the boys became madly excited. They uttered exultant yells, and brandished their weapons. Only the presence of their ruler prevented them from speeding to join their comrades at the bloody work.

Safid Pasha stood calmly, still with an inscrutable expression on his face. He must have had a heart like a stone.

"Monster! Cold-blooded fiend!" cried Godfrey in a paroxysm of rage. "How can you let those defenseless men be slaughtered?"

"Silence, you dog," muttered the Egyptian angrily.

"No; I will speak," thundered Godfrey. "I denounce you for the devil that you are. Yet I expected that your lying promises would end in just this way."

"All is honorable in war," retorted Safid Pasha. "The new Mahdi has an army of thousands, and needs not this handful of renegade Arabs and Somalis. They are better dead. For you and your two companions I have other views —— "

"No fouler deed was ever committed," broke in Godfrey. "Some day you will beg for the mercy that you now deny these poor wretches."

At this Safid Pasha lost patience, and his face turned dusky-red with anger. He bent forward, and struck Godfrey violently on the mouth.

"Another word and your tongue shall be torn out!" he cried. "I have had enough insolence. Drive me further and I will turn you and your companions over to the mercy of these ferocious fellows! They need no urging to hack you limb from limb!"

Godfrey realized that the Egyptian was in earnest. For the sake of the boys he kept his temper under control, and allowed the blow to pass unnoticed. But the set and terrible expression of his face showed that he would never forget.

Meanwhile the butchery in the camp had been hur ried along, and now a burst of triumphant cries told that the bloody work was over. The standards of Cross and Koran waved from the ramparts.

With a few words to his men, Safid Pasha hastened in that direction. The former instantly ordered God frey and the boy to their feet, and marched them off toward the ridge.

They passed within one hundred feet of the camp, now swarming with dervishes, and when they reached the herd of camels they were flung roughly down on the sand. Three of their captors squatted on guard near by.

A little later half a dozen tents of tanned skins were pitched, and in one of these the prisoners were placed.

"Safid Pasha seems to be very considerate of our comfort," said Arthur. "What do you think he intends to do with us?"

"I would like to know that myself," replied Godfrey. "You must not be deceived, however, by his mocking attentions. He will take us to Khartoum, and there we will probably be either executed or sold into slavery; and I don't know but what the former is preferable."

"Not to my mind," said Roden, with a shudder. "If we are allowed to live, a chance o, [sic] escape may turn up."

"There's a dim possibility of it," admitted Godfrey, in a despondent tone. "But it don't happen once in a thousand cases that a slave escapes from this part of Africa."

There was silence for a minute or two, while the brothers looked sadly at each other.

"Our poor father" groaned Roden. "Heaven help him!"

"We will save him yet " said Arthur hoarsely.

"Some day we will escape and make our way back to Suakin. We left enough money there with the English bankers to fit out another expedition."

At this point a dervish poked his ugly head into the tent, and made fierce gestures to indicate silence.

The prisoners deemed it wise to obey. They stretched themselves flat on the sand, and before long they fell into a troubled sleep.

They knew nothing more until they awoke with a start, to find that the tent had, been unceremoniously dragged from over them.

It was early morning, and the sun was sending a rosy glimmer above the flat horizon of the desert. Already the bustle of preparation for departure was going on.

The camels stood waiting, a number of them loaded with the valuable stores which Godfrey and his com panions had purchased with such care. The plundered rifles had been distributed among the dervishes.

Off toward the river the camp was in plain view, and with equal clearness a heap of bloody corpses could be seen inside the down-trodden ramparts. There the victims of Safid Pasha's perfidy were destined to lie, rotting and festering under the fierce sun, or making food for prowling jackals.

Safid Pasha moved calmly about, giving directions. here and there, or superintending the digging of a trench in which the dead dervishes were to be buried.

Only once did he so much as recognize the existence of the prisoners, and then it was to order a frugal breakfast to be taken to them.

They ate the coarse food with keen relish, and washed it down with water from their canteens.

Evidently the reinforcements of which Safid Pasha had spoken had a mythical existence. None appeared, at any rate, and before the sun was well above the horizon, the long column of dervishes and camels was moving swiftly up the shore of the Atbara River.

The prisoners had each an animal to themselves, and their position was near the center of the line.

The journey that followed need not be described in detail. Let it suffice to say that the camels were urged to their limit of speed and endurance.

After fording the Atbara River they trotted swiftly to the southwest for two days and a night, making brief and infrequent stops by desert wells.

It was close to evening when the dreaded and fanatical city of Khartoum was reached. It lay on a sandy spit of land formed by the junction of the Blue and White Niles.

From a distance of half a mile the boys saw the sun shining on the ramparts, the stretch of walls, and the far-reaching cluster of low, yellow houses.

In the center rose a great, square, flat-roofed building. This was the palace, and from its top, through many weary months, General Gordon had vainly strained his eyes down the sweep of the Nile to see the relief that never came.

Numerous big boats of broad construction were ferried across the Blue Nile in response to Safid Pasha's signals, and by sunset the weary travelers were filing through the streets of the town.

Godfrey and his companions were on the verge of exhaustion, and looked indifferently at the strange scenes around them.

Of course no white face was visible, nor had one been seen there for years.

Everywhere were dusky, merciless visages —- renegade Egyptian soldiers, the fierce dervishes of the Soudan, native traders from all parts of Africa, and troops of miserable, shackled slaves.

Through a shouting, yelling horde of spectators the cavalcade moved on. In the dusk of twilight it passed through the square, on one side of which stood the palace, and on the other the church of the Austrian Mission, where Gordon had met his death in the early gray of the morning of January 26, 1885.

Then down a narrow side street to the gloomy front of the prison, and five minutes later the captives were alone in a dark, foul-smelling cell.

They paid no heed to their surroundings then, nor cared much what their fate was destined to be. They dropped down on the coarse bedding of straw, and were almost instantly asleep.

It was past noon of the next day when they woke to a keen and troubled sense of their miserable plight. That they were not separated was to be thankful for.

During the long, monotonous days that followed, a little ray of hope took root in their hearts. They ap peared to be forgotten, for no one in authority came near their cell.

"Our fate is not decided yet," said Godfrey. "Possibly we may languish here in prison for years."

This prospect looked less black to his companions than to himself. Arthur and Roden felt confident that, if the boon of life was granted them there must be some chance of escape in the future.

A week passed by, and another began. The prison ers were well fed, but still no one came near their cell except the renegade Egyptian soldiers who had charge of the prison.

From one of the latter, who was disposed to be a little friendly, Godfrey learned that the new ruler of the Soudan was a Sheik of the Baggara Arabs —- a distant relative of the dead Mahdi, Mohamet Achmed.

The guard described him as being of a very savage and cruel disposition, and far more of a fanatic than his illustrious predecessor.

This the prisoners could readily believe, for the Mahdi was well known to have been a merciful man, and had he been able to save Gordon's life he would probably have done so.

On the morning of the tenth day of their confinement Godfrey and the boys were sitting side by side against the grimy wall of their cell.