CHAP. XIX.] 
SAAT DIES. 
495 
to be worn on onr entree to Khartoum. He was laid 
down to sleep upon a clean mat, and my wife gave him 
a lump of sugar to moisten his mouth and to relieve 
his thickly-furred tongue.^ His pulse was very weak, 
and his skin cold. “ Poor Saat,” said my wife, “ his 
life hangs upon a thread. We must nurse him most 
carefully; should he have a relapse, nothing will save 
himAn hour passed, and he slept. Karka, the fat, 
good-natured slave woman, quietly went to his side : 
gently taking him by the ankles and knees, she stretched 
his legs into a straight position, and laid his arms 
parallel with his sides. She then covered his face with 
a cloth, one of the few rags that we still possessed. 
“ Does he sleep still V’ we asked. The tears ran down 
the cheeks of the savage but good-hearted Karka, as 
she sobbed, “ He is dead ! " 
We stopped the boat. It was a sandy shore; the 
banks were high, and a clump of mimosas grew above 
high water-mark. It was there that we dug his grave. 
My men worked silently and sadly, for all loved Saat: 
he had been so good and true, that even their hard 
hearts had learnt to respect his honesty. We laid him 
in his grave on the desert shore, beneath the grove of 
trees. Again the sail was set, and, filled by the breeze, 
it carried us away from the dreary spot where we had 
sorrowfully left all that was good and faithful. It 
was a happy end—most merciful, as he had been taken 
from a land of iniquity in all the purity of a child con¬ 
verted from Paganism to Christianity. He had lived 
and died in our service a good Christian. Our voyage 
was nearly over, and we looked forward to home and 
friends, but we had still fatigues before us : poor Saat 
had reached his home and rest. Two faithful followers 
we had buried,—Johann Schmidt at the commence¬ 
ment of the voyage, and Saat at its termination. 
A few miles from this spot, a head wind delayed us 
for several days. Losing patience, I engaged camels 
from the Arabs ; and riding the whole day, we reached 
