In the meantime the two messengers drew nearer. They were both filthy
dirty, and appeared to be clad in dark-brown leather. One man seemed to
hesitate, and stood about sixty yards distant, and demanded who we were.
Upon hearing from Colonel Abdel-Kader that it was "the Pacha," and that
"he need not be afraid," he told us that Abou Saood was at the station,
and that he would run back with the news.
The other messenger came timidly forward, until he stood close beneath
me. My wife was on horseback by my side.
Can it be possible? MOHAMMED, my old Cairo servant of former years?
The grand dragoman of the lower Nile reduced to this! My wife exclaimed,
"Ah, Mohammed, I am very glad to see you; but how wretched you appear!"
This was too much for the prodigal son; he seized my wife's hand to
kiss, and burst into tears.
Poor Mohammed! he had gone through many trials since we last met. When I
left him in Khartoum ill with guinea-worm in the leg, he was on his way
to Cairo; but after my departure he had been tempted by the
slave-traders to re-engage in the infamous but engrossing career, and he
too had become a slave-hunter.
