ilor conducted to the tent of
his sable master, and placed like an additional piece upon the pile of
plunder already apportioned!

CHAPTER XXIII.

SAILOR BILL BESHREWED.

Sailor Bill said not a word. He had no voice in the disposal of the
stakes,--which were himself and his "toggery,"--and, knowing this, he
remained silent.

He was not allowed to remain undisturbed. During the progress of the
game, he had become the cynosure of a large circle of eyes,--belonging
to the women and children of the united tribes.

He might have looked for some compassion,--at least, from the female
portion of those who formed his _entourage_. Half famished with
hunger,--a fact which he did not fail to communicate by signs,--he might
have expected them to relieve his wants. The circumstance of his making
them known might argue, that he did expect some sort of kind treatment.

It was not much, however. His hopes were but slight, and sprang rather
from a knowledge of his own necessities, and of what the women _ought_
to have done, than what they were likely to do. Old Bill had heard too
much of the character of these hags of the Saaera,--and their mode of
conducting themselves towards any unfortunate castaway who might be
drifted among them,--to expect any great hospitality at their hands.

His hopes, therefore, were moderate; but, for all that, they were doomed
to disappointment.

Perhaps in no other part of the world is the "milk of human kindness" so
completely wanting in the female breast, as among the women of the
wandering Arabs of Africa. Slaves to their imperious lords,--even when
enjoying the sacred title of wife,--they are themselves treated worse
than the animals which they have to manage and tend,--even worse at
times than their own bond-slaves, with whom they mingle almost on an
equality. As in all like cases, this harsh usage, instead of producing
sympathy for others who suffer, has the very opposite tendency; as if
they found some alleviation of their cruel lot in imitating the
brutality of their oppressors.

Instead of receiving kindness, the old sailor became the recipient of
insults, not only from their tongues,--which he could not
understand,--but by acts and gestures which were perfectly
comprehensible to him.

While his ears were dinned by virulent speeches,--which, could he have
comprehended them, would have told him how much he was despised for
being an infidel, and not a follower of the true prophet