Then he would make another effort for his life.But the whirlpool was closing in upon him; and at last, like one who flings himself over a precipice from dizziness, fears, and irresistible fascination, he flung himself into the middle of the infuriated throng as they scurried across the open Feddan.
From that moment Ben Aboo's doom was sealed.The people received him with a long furious roar, a cry of triumphant execration, as if their own astuteness at length had entrapped him.He stood with his back to the high wall; the bellowing crowd was before him on either side.By the torches that many carried all could see him.
Turban and shasheeah had fallen off, and the bald crown of his head was bare.His face retained no human expression but fear.
He was seen to draw his arms from beneath his selham, to hold both his money-bags against his breast, to plunge a hand into the necks of them, and fling handfuls of coins to the people."Silver," he cried;"silver, silver for everybody."
The despairing appeal was useless.Nobody touched the money.
It flashed white through the air, and fell unheard."Death to the Kaid!"was shouted on every side.Nevertheless, though half the men carried guns, no man fired.By unspoken consent it seemed to be understood that the death of Ben Aboo was not to be the act of one, but of all."Stones," cried somebody out of the crowd, and in another moment everybody was picking stones, and piling them at his feet or gathering them in the skirt of his jellab.