At that time my entire
property consisted of one donkey, and he had a gall on his back,
so that I could not ride him.
But I made him carry my water-skin and
bag of corn, over which I spread my rough cotton garment, and drove him
along in front of me. At that time I wore the white cotton shirt,
like the rest of my tribe. My clothes and my dialect at once marked
me out as a stranger wherever I went; and when I crossed the Nile I was
frequently greeted with "What do you want? Go back to your own country.
There is nothing to steal here."'
What a life of ups and downs! It was a long stride from the ownership
of one saddle-galled donkey to the undisputed rule of an empire.
The weary wayfarer may have dreamed of this, for ambition stirs
imagination nearly as much as imagination excites ambition. But further
he could not expect or wish to see. Nor could he anticipate as, in the
complacency of a man who had done with evil days, he told the story of
his rise to the submissive Slatin, that the day would come when he would
lead an army of more than fifty thousand men to destruction, and that
the night would follow when, almost alone, his empire shrunk again to
the saddle-galled donkey, he would seek his home in distant Kordofan,
while this same Slatin who knelt so humbly before him would lay
the fierce pursuing squadrons on the trail.
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