I was not got above a mile into the sands, when I began to reflect on the folly of the undertaking. I was going into the desert among a band of savages, whose only trade was robbery and murder, where, in all probability, I should be as ill treated as the man I was attempting to save. But, seeing a crowd of people about half a mile before me, and thinking they might be at that time murdering that poor, honest, and simple fellow, all consideration of my own safety for the time vanished.
Upon my coming near them, six or eight of them surrounded me on horseback, and began to gabble in their own language. I was not very fond of my situation. It would have cost them nothing to have thrust a lance through my back, and taken the horse away; and, after stripping me, to have buried me in a hillock of sand, if they were so kind as give themselves that last trouble. However, I picked up courage, and putting on the best appearance I could, said to them steadily, without trepidation, “What men are these before?” The answer, after some pause, was, _they are men_; and they looked very queerly, as if they meant to ask each other, What sort of a spark is this? “Are those before us Ababdé, said I; are they from Shekh Ammer?” One of them nodded, and grunted sullenly, rather than said “Aye, Ababdé from Shekh Ammer.” “Then Salam Alicum! said I, we are brethren. How does the Nimmer? Who commands you here? Where is Ibrahim?”
At the mention of Nimmer, and Ibrahim, their countenance changed, not to any thing sweeter or gentler than before, but to a look of great surprise. They had not returned my salutation, _peace be between us_; but one of them asked me who I was?--“Tell me first, said I, who that is you have before?”--“It is an Arab, our enemy, says he, guilty of our blood.”--“He is, replied I, my servant. He is a Howadat Arab, his tribe lives in peace at the gates of Cairo, in the same manner your’s at Shekh Ammer does at those of Assouan.” “I ask you, Where is Ibrahim your Shekh’s’ son?”--“Ibrahim, says he, is at our head, he commands us here. But who are you?”--“Come with me, and shew me Ibrahim, said I, and I will shew you who I am.”
I passed by these, and by another party of them. They had thrown a hair rope about the neck of Abdel Gin, who was almost strangled already, and cried out most miserably, for me not to leave him. I went directly to the black tent which I saw had a long spear thrust up in the end of it, and met at the door Ibrahim and his brother, and seven or eight Ababdé. He did not recollect me, but I dismounted close to the tent-door, and had scarce taken hold of the pillar of the tent, and said _Fiarduc_[154], when Ibrahim, and his brother both knew me. “What! said they, are you _Yagoube_ our physician, and our friend?”--“Let me ask you, replied I, if you are the Ababdé of Shekh Ammer, that cursed yourselves, and your children, if you ever lifted a hand against me, or mine, in the desert, or in the plowed field: If you have repented of that oath, or sworn falsely on purpose to deceive me, here I am come to you in the _desert_.” “What is the matter, says Ibrahim, we are the Ababdé of Shekh Ammer, there are no other, and we still say, Cursed be he, whether our father, or children, that lifts his hand against you, in the desert, or in the plowed field.” “Then, said I, you are all accursed in the desert, and in the field, for a number of your people are going to murder my servant. They took him indeed from my house _in the town_, perhaps that is not included in your curse, as it is neither in the _desert_ nor the _plowed field_.”--I was very angry. “Whew! says Ibrahim with a kind of whistle, that is downright nonsense. Who are those of my people that have authority to murder, and take prisoners while I am here? Here one of you, get upon Yagoube’s horse, and bring that man to me.” Then turning to me, he desired I would go into the tent and sit down: “For God renounce me and mine, (says he), if it is as you say, and one of them hath touched the hair of his head, if ever _he_ drinks of the Nile again.”