We've
got to make for a better position to-morrow, and meet Abdullah, the
bull-Arab, further down the river. That's one reason why Mustafa
and all our friends here are so sweet on us now. They look on the
Saadat as a kind of mascot, and they think that he can wipe out the
enemy with his flute, which they believe is a witch-stick to work
wonders.
He's just sent for me to come, and I must stop soon. Say, he hasn't
had sleep for a fortnight. It's too much; he can't stand it. I
tried it, and couldn't. It wore me down. He's killing himself for
others. I can't manage him; but I guess you could. I apologise,
dear Lady Cousin. I'm only a hayseed, and a failure, but I guess
you'll understand that I haven't thought only of myself as I wrote
this letter. The higher you go in life the more you'll understand;
that's your nature. I'll get this letter off by a nigger to-morrow,
with those the Saadat is sending through to Cairo by some
friendlies. It's only a chance; but everything's chance here now.
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