“He is a capable boy and I have full confidence in him,” replied Mr. Rawlison.
“Yes, indeed, so have I. In spite of his many faults, Stasch is a boy of good character and never lies, for he is brave, and only a coward lies. He does not lack energy, and later, when his judgment develops, I think he will be able to fight his way through the world.”
“Certainly; but just think if you ever acted with deliberation at his age?”
“I must confess that I did not!” replied Mr. Tarkowski, laughing; “but perhaps I was not so self-conscious as he is.”
“He will get over that. Meanwhile, be glad that you have such a boy.”
“And you that you have such a sweet, dear little soul as Nell.”
“God bless her,” answered Mr. Rawlison, much affected.
The two friends clasped hands, and then began to examine the plans and cost of the water-works, and so the time passed quickly until evening.
At six o’clock, at night-fall, they went to the station, walked up and down the platform, and continued talking about the children.
“Lovely weather, but cool,” Mr. Rawlison said. “I wonder if Nell has taken warm enough clothing with her?”
“Stasch doubtless thought of it, and Dinah, too.”
“I am sorry we did not go to Medinet ourselves, instead of having them brought to us.”
“Remember that I suggested this.”
“I know, and if it were not that we have to continue farther south I would have agreed to it, but I calculated that the journey would take a considerable time, and so we should not have had as long a time with the children. Besides, I will confess that it was Chamis who gave me the idea of having them brought here. He told me that he wanted to see them so much, and that he would be greatly pleased if he were sent after them. I am not surprised that he has taken a fancy to them.”
Further conversation was cut short by the signals announcing the approaching train. Soon afterward the fiery eye of the locomotive appeared in the darkness, and at the same time its panting breath and whistling could be heard.
A string of lighted cars passed along the platform, then the train shook and stopped.
“I did not see them at any of the windows,” said Mr. Rawlison.
“Perhaps they are sitting farther back in the car and will soon get out.”
The travelers began to leave the train, but they were chiefly Arabs, for with the exception of beautiful palms and acacia groves El-Fasher has nothing worth seeing. The children had not come.
“Either Chamis did not catch the train at El-Wasta,” said Mr. Tarkowski, slightly annoyed, “or he may have overslept and so took the night train, and they may arrive to-morrow.”
“That may be,” answered Mr. Rawlison, much worried, “but perhaps one of them is ill.”
“If this were so Stasch would have wired.”
“Who knows, perhaps we may find a telegram awaiting us at the hotel.”
“Let us go and see.”
But in the hotel there was no news for them. Mr. Rawlison became even more uneasy.
“Do you know what also might have happened?” said Mr. Tarkowski. “If, for instance, Chamis overslept, he would not have told the children; he would merely go to them to-day and tell them that they are to travel to-morrow. He will excuse himself to us by saying that he did not understand our orders. Anyway, I will wire to Stasch.”
“And I to the moodir of Fayoum.”
Soon afterward two telegrams were sent off. As yet there was no occasion to be alarmed, but while awaiting a reply the engineers passed a bad night. They were up again early in the morning.
Toward ten o’clock a telegram arrived from the moodir that read as follows:
“It has been ascertained at the station that the children left the day before for Gharak el-Sultani.”
It is easy to imagine that the fathers were greatly surprised and very angry at this unexpected news. For a while they gazed at each other, as if they had not understood the words of the telegram; then Mr. Tarkowski, who was a very excitable man, struck the table with his fist and said:
“This is Stasch’s work, but I will soon cure him of such ideas.”
“I should never have thought that of him,” answered Nell’s father. But after a while he asked:
“Well, and Chamis?”
“Either he has not met them and does not know what to do, or he has gone in search of them.”
“That is what I think.”
An hour later they left for Medinet. In the tents they learned that the camel-drivers had also departed, and at the station it was stated on good authority that Chamis had left for El-Gharak with the children.
Things looked darker and darker, and they could only be explained at El-Gharak.
It was at this station that the terrible truth began to unveil itself.
The station-master, the same sleepy man with the colored spectacles and the red fez, told them that he had seen a boy about fourteen years old and a little girl eight years old with an elderly negress, and that they had ridden toward the desert. He was not quite sure whether they had eight or nine camels with them, but he had noticed that one of them was laden, as if going on a long journey, and that the two Bedouins also carried a great deal of baggage on their saddles, and he remembered that when he had looked at the caravan one of the camel-drivers, a Sudanese, told him that they were the children of Englishmen who had ridden to Wadi Rayan.
“Have these Englishmen returned?” asked Mr. Tarkowski.
“Yes. They returned yesterday with two wolves they had shot,” answered the station-master, “and I was very much surprised that they did not bring the children back with them. But I did not ask them the reason, for it was none of my business.”
With these words he returned to his work.
During this explanation Mr. Rawlison’s face turned as white as paper. Looking at his friend with a wild stare, he raised his hat, lifted his hand to his perspiring forehead, and staggered as if he were about to fall.
“Rawlison, be a man!” cried Mr. Tarkowski. “Our children have been kidnapped. They must be saved!”
“Nell! Nell!” repeated the unhappy Englishman. “Nell and Stasch! It is not Stasch’s fault! They have both been brought here by treachery and then carried off. Who knows why? Perhaps in hopes of a ransom. Chamis is certainly in the plot, and so are Idris and Gebhr.”
Now he remembered what Fatima had said, that both these Sudanese were of the Dangali tribe, to which the Mahdi belonged, and that Chadigi, the father of Chamis, was also of the same tribe. As he thought of this his heart nearly stopped beating, for now he knew that the children had not been carried off in the hopes of a ransom, but to be exchanged for Smain and his family.
“But what would the tribe of the evil-minded prophet do with them? It would be impossible for them to hide themselves in the desert or anywhere along the banks of the Nile, for in the desert they would all die of hunger and thirst, and on the bank of the Nile they would be sure to be discovered. So there was only one course for them to pursue, and that was to flee with the children to the Mahdi!”
This thought filled Mr. Tarkowski with terror, but this energetic man, who had formerly been a soldier, soon composed himself, recalled