y, during the fast of Ramadan, between the rising and the
going down of the sun, so long as a white thread could be distinguished
from a black, he would not eat even a scorpion, because the tasting of
food by day in that time is forbidden by the Prophet.

When Ben-Abid struck on his door Sadok came forth, gibbering in his
tangled beard, and half naked.

"Oh, brother!" said Ben-Abid. "Here is money if thou canst find me three
scorpions. One of them must be a black scorpion."

Sadok shot out his filthy claw, and there was fire in his eyes. But
Ben-Abid's fingers closed round the money paper.

"First thou must find the scorpions, and then thou must carry them with
thee to the court of the dancers, walking at my side. For, as Allah
lives, I will not touch them. Afterwards thou shalt have the money."

Sadok's soul drew the shutters across his eyes. Then he led the way by
tortuous alleys to an old and ruined wall of a _zgag_, in which there
were as many holes as there are in a honeycomb. Here, as he knew,
the scorpions loved to sleep. Thrusting his fingers here and there he
presently drew forth three writhing reptiles. And one of them was black.
He held them out, with a cry, to Ben-Abid.

"The money! The money!" he shrieked.

But Ben-Abid shrank back, shuddering.

"Thou must bring them to the dancers' court. Hide them well in thy
garments that none may see them. Then thou shalt have the money."

Sadok hid the scorpions upon his shaven head beneath his turban, and
they went by the dunes and the lonely ways to the cafe of the dancers.

Already the pipers were playing, and many were assembled to see the
women dance; but Ben-Abid and Sadok pushed through the throng, and
passed across the cafe to the inner court, which is open to the air, and
surrounded with earthen terraces on which, in tiers, open the rooms of
the dancers, each with its own front door. This court is as a mighty
rabbit warren, peopled with women instead of rabbits. Pale lights
gleamed in many doorways, for the dancers were dressing and painting
themselves for the dances of the body, of the hands, of the poignard,
and of the handkerchief. Their shrill voices cried one to another, their
heavy bracelets and necklets jingled, and the monstrous shadows of
their crowned and feathered heads leaped and wavered on the yellow
patches of light that lay before their doors.

"Where is Halima?" cried Ben-Abid in a loud voice. "Let Halima come
forth and spit in my f