The Caldwell tribune. [volume] (Caldwell, Idaho Territory [Idaho]) 1883-1928, 1896-12-12

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One evening, while hurrying through
the bazaar on my way to Gen. Gordon's
quarters, boy sprang out of a cob
piers stall and handed me a tiny bun
slipping away into the darkness
before had time to do more than rec
ognlze him as Ibrahim, son of Hassan.
l carried the bundle to the General.
and together we undid It's fasteninRs.
Have you ever declphered an Oriental
object letter? l mean a letter which
is not written upon paper, but Of which
the sense is conveyed by objects-how-
ers and the like. The bundle handed
me by Ibrahim was just such a commu-
nlcatiOn. 1t contained a queer collec-
ton Of articles. They were: A piece
OF broken knife blade, G scrap Of green
cloth, two flowers (marigolds, think
with only the heads remaining, brick
from the walls, and, lastly, an iron af.
fair, which l at once recognized as the
point of one of those sticks with which
camels are urged onward
Gen. Gordon lost no time in unrav.
cling the mystery of this misslve. The
green CLOTH he said, means the Mahdi,
because his sacred flag is green. The
knife blade stands for a sword, and the
decapitated flower means that our
heads are going to be cut off. The
brick, | take 1t, hints of treachery In
side the walls. The camel-spike ad-
vises you to fly from Khartoum imme-
diately. Where did you get thisT
When l told him the source Of my
Information he was inclined to pooh
pooh Ibrahlm's letter 1t Is boys fear
and fancy he said. We shall be re-
lieved In a few weeks
But the Mahdi's men formed an
impenetrable circle around the town
a circle that grew narrower and mar
rover. Day after day we scanned the
desert horizon for some sign Of the ex-
pected relief, but without avail. Day
after cay the impression grew stronger
upon each and all of US that we were
doomed.
During an early morning walk lbra-
him accosted me as suddenly as he had
done before. Fly, effendl,' he whisper
ed. The city is betrayed. My father
and other Mussulmans have decided to
let the Mahdi within the gates. Dis
guise yourself and fly before 1t is too
late"
II shook my head, for duty kept me
in KhaTtoum; and Ibrahlm retreated
with tears in those big, honest eyes of
his.
'"The very next night his warning
was fulfilled. 1t would be idle, my
friend, to tell you over again all the
horrors of the capture, or rather be-
trayal, of Khartoum. The Mahdis SOL
diers were like fiends lncarnate. Spent
with fatigue and slender fare we could
not stand before them. Gordon, poor
fellow, was slain, and a remnant OF us
was driven, fighting for life, from hut
to hut across the city. Finally, with
empty revolver and broken sword, /
found myself in the stairway of a rude
mInaret, waiting for the death which
felt would be Inevitable. It is all very
we'll to meet death boldly on the field
of battle, with comrades and friends
dEOuuu OhCt Oul " Dit uO"h III a udl
stairway and count the minutes until
its coming might make the bravest man
In the world feel uncomfortable. All
around | heard the hideous sounds of
slaughter and watched through a tiny
loop-hole in the wall the red flames
shooting across the sky flor it was mid
night, and a starless midnight to bootl
A sick feeling stole over me. To re-
main cooped up thus seemed intolera-
BILE. l had just resolved to rush into
the thick of the Soudanese and sell my
life as dearly as possible when n foot
fall on the stairs below arrested me.
ut was the sound of a naked foot,
and as l peered. every sense on the
alert, into the half-hght by the minaret
doorway, vaguely distinguished a
dark form and two shining eyes. Was
it one of the Mahdis In search of hui
man prey gripped my broken sword
tighter and prepared for action.
'Effendi! whispered a voice, is 1t
you, protector of the poOrT'
THE voice was that OF Ibrahim, son
of HaSsan. My heart gay" a leap for
gladness and l answered him that 1t
was, indeed, myself.
1T is good he exclaimed. My
lord, l have come 10 save you. Hasten
down and don these garments which
have brought you. They belong to the
old blind priest who lodged with my
father. He died last night, but nobody
knows of it yet. You can pass as the
old priest and escape, Make haste, sa-
hib, make hasteTI ...
al saw the chance and seized IT. Be
fore you could have repeated the pro-
verbal Jack Robinson many times /
had pulled those baggy Mohammedan
clothes over my soiled and bloodstalned
uniform. A turban took the place Of
my khaki helmet, and around my face
I draped the white hood which the
Soudanese Arabs wear. Then, before
could protest, Ibrahim cOOlly seized a