the Soudan!

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

MILES IS PROMOTED--MOLLOY OVERTHROWS THE MAHDI, AND IS ELEVATED FOR SO
DOING.

Next day Miles Milton became painfully aware of the fact that his life
in captivity was not to be one of ease or idleness.

Soon after daybreak the door of his prison creaked on its ponderous
hinges, and he started up from the mat on which he had slept without
covering of any kind. His visitor was the Mahdi's runner, who, after
closing the door, came and sat down beside him, cross legged _a la_ Turk
and tailor.

For a brief space the handsome black stared steadily at Miles, who
returned the compliment as steadily, not being sure whether curiosity or
insolence lay at the foundation of the stare.

"Englishmin," said the runner at last, "you is unfortnit."

"I am indeed," returned Miles; "at the same time I am fortunate in so
unexpectedly finding one who recognises the fact, and who can tell me so
in my own tongue. May I venture to hope that you are friendly towards
me?"

"Yes; I am your friend, but my friendness can do for you not'ing. Like
youself, I am captive--slave. But in my own land I was a chief, and
friend of the great and good Gordon, so I is friend to all Englishmin.
Once I was 'terpreter to Gordon, but the Mahdi came. I fell into his
hands, and now I do run befront his horse, an' hold de stirrup! I comes
to you from the Mahdi wid bad news."

"Indeed! But I need not wonder. You could scarcely come from him with
good news. What have you to tell?"

"The Mahdi has made you his runner," answered the negro.

"That is strange news rather than bad, is it not?"

"No; it is bad. He do dis 'cause he hate you. Somehow you has anger
him. He say he will tame you. He try to tame _me_," said the negro,
with sudden and tremendous ferocity, "an' him t'ink he do it! But I
only waits my chance to kill him.

"Now he send me again to dirty work, an' put you in my place to humble
you--to insult you before every one, who will say, `Look! de bold
Christin dog lick de dust now, an' hold de Mahdi's stirrup.'"

"This is indeed bad news. But how is it that you, who seem to be free,
do not use your opportunity to escape? I saw you holding the Mahdi's
horse. It seems to be a splendid one. Why did you not jump on its back
and fly?"

The runner frowned, and then, changing his mood, smiled sadly.

"You is young," he said, "and knows not'ing. At night I am locked up
like yourself. In de d