h the bearing of a
British officer, and closely followed by a black.

For the moment it seemed like an intrusion, and there was a movement
amongst the Sirdar's guard as if to force them back. But an officer
raised his hand, and then whispered to another at his side--

"Gordon's friend; a prisoner with him at his death."

"Yes, but the black fellow?" said the other, in the same low tone.

"Pst! Tell you after--brother--came in disguise--to seek him out."

Then all stood watching in the midst of a painful silence as they saw
the rescued victim of the Mahdi's reign of terror sink softly upon his
knees by his leader's grave and lay upon it a leaf freshly taken from a
neighbouring palm, while his companion stood reverently close behind.

A minute had elapsed, and then those present drew back, and a hand was
laid upon the kneeling man's shoulder.

The latter rose slowly, and he who had silently warned him that it was
time to go heard him murmur--

"Goodbye, brave soldier and truest friend. I did my best. But it is
not Goodbye: for you will be always with us--one of Britain's greatest
sons--your name will never die."

Then turning to his companion with a faint, sad smile, he said softly--

"Our country was slow to move, but at last it has done its duty well.
Mine was a bitter time of waiting, but it is as nothing now, for I have
been here to see."

He turned and looked up quickly, for there was a sharp fluttering sound
as of wings.

"The British flag!" he said, with a look of pride lighting up his deeply
bronzed face. "There, Frank, lad, our work is done, and the way is
open. Now for rest--for the home I never hoped to see again."

A low murmur of admiration ran along the ranks of the British soldiers,
officers and men, as the brothers walked slowly back to where a group
was standing, one of whom was a good-looking, sun-browned Hakim in snowy
turban and flowing robes, attended by a swarthy man in a _fez_--a man in
white garb with a very English face, and just behind him a venerable
Sheikh. For all who were present now had learned the facts, and as the
brothers passed, one of the officers of the Sirdar's guard exclaimed--

"By George! and yet there are people who say we have no heroes now!"

THE END.

End of Project Gutenberg's In the Mahdi's Grasp, by George Manville Fenn

*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE MAHDI'S GRASP ***

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