was an object of interest to the young
chief, who noted every movement with a sort of pitying contempt, while
at the same time, in spite of the result of the Hakim's ministrations,
he displayed an unconcealed dislike for him that was manifested in
morose looks and more than one angry scowl.

This was talked over when the friends were alone, and the doctor smiled.

"It does not matter," he said. "I shall not be jealous, Frank. It is
all plain enough to read. The poor fellow is weak as a child mentally
as well as bodily, and I expect that as soon as he gets better he will
be offering you your freedom from the cruel slavery to which you have
been reduced."

"Yes, that's it," said the professor, laughing; "but don't you listen to
the voice of the charmer, my boy. There is an old proverb about jumping
out of the frying-pan into the fire."

"It may all work for good," said the doctor, "and there is no harm in
making a friend; but it is of no use to try and foresee what will
happen. A sick man's fancies are very evanescent. Go on as you have
done all through. One thing is very evident: he is mending fast, and
can be moved when his father returns."

"If he ever does," said the professor drily. "The lives of these
fighting men are rather precarious, and if we never see him again I
shall not be surprised."

Another week glided by, and the large tent was taken down by the Baggara
guard and set up again in their own camp, for the last of the Hakim's
patients had expressed a wish to join his fellows, though far from being
in a condition to leave, so that the young chief was the only sufferer
left, while he was now sufficiently recovered to watch what went on
around. But for the most part his eyes were fixed upon the desert, his
gaze bespeaking the expectation of his father's return, though he never
suggested it in his brief conversations with the Sheikh--brief from
their difficulty, the old Arab confessing his inability to understand
much that was said.

But if the young chief was watching in that expectation he fixed his
eyes upon the distant horizon in vain. The clouds appeared every
morning, to hang for hours in the east along the course of the far-off
river, and then die away in the glowing sunshine, while to north and
south and west there was the shimmering haze of heat playing above the
sand, till Frank began to be in despair.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

FOR A FRESH START.

One evening after the young chie