CHAPTER XIX
THE PROPHET WHO SLIPPED
ZACK FOSTER, Effendi, was not safely hid, and he tarried for nobody to find him. Old Reliable found himself in less time than an hour. General Durham and he American planter were still talking about him when they heard Zack's voice outside the gate, calling, "Whar's de Cunnel?" Helmet in hand, Old Reliable strode between two lines of salaaming servants, wiping his face on a red handkerchief. Said dropped to his haunches at the gate, as if nothing had happened. Arab glances were exchanged between lowered eyes; the date-sellers did not look up from their baskets. Two silent Nigerines, with their backs turned, stood contemplating the river.
General Durham fastened his eyes upon Old Reliable's sweaty black face, which seemed to conceal nothing; but the British had learned that they never saw beneath the skins of these people. Old Reliable burst out in wrath: "Cunnel, dem niggers got me cut off. You tole me to keep side an' side wid you-all, an' I wuz doin' it. But when
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