"Where is Ali Hussein?" I asked the natives.
"DEAD!" cried a number of voices.
"Are you certain?" I asked.
"We will bring you his head, for he is not far off," they replied; and
several men started immediately.
We were very hungry; and as curry is quickly eaten, we were not long at
breakfast; this was hardly concluded when some natives rushed to the
open door, and throwing something heavy on the floor of the hut, I saw
at my feet the bloody head of Ali Hussein!
There was no mistake in the person. The villainous expression was as
strongly marked upon the features in death as it had been in life.
The natives had appropriated his clothes, which they described as "a
long white robe and black trousers." Ali Hussein had been struck by two
bullets; one had broken his arm, and the other had passed through his
thigh. He was alive when the natives discovered him; but as he had been
the scourge of the country, he, of course, received no mercy from them.
CHAPTER XXIV.
NO MEDICAL MEN.
The death of the unfortunate Dr. Gedge, my chief medical officer at
Tewfikeeyah, added to the retirement of one of the Egyptian surgeons
from Gondokoro, had left me with so weak a medical staff that I had been
unable to take a doctor from head-quarters.
