s under the arch of the wall within.

"Selam! M'barak! Abd el Kader! Abd el Kareem!" shouted the Shereef's
black guard to the sleepy gate-keepers. They had come thus far in
Israel's honour, and would not return to Wazzan until they had seen him
housed within.

From the other side of the gate, through the mist and the gloom, came
yawns and broken snores and then snarls and curses. "Burn your father!
Pretty hubbub in the middle of the night!"

"Selam!" shouted one of the black guard. "You dog of dogs! Your father
was bewitched by a hyena! I'll teach you to curse your betters. Quick!
get up,--or I'll shave your beard. Open! or I'll ride the donkey on your
head! There!--and there!--and there again!" and at every word the butt
of his long gun rang on the old oaken gate.

"Hamed el Wazzani!" muttered several voices within.

"Yes," shouted the Shereef's man. "And my Lord Israel of Tetuan on his
way to the Sultan, God grant him victory. Do you hear, you dogs? Sidi
Israel el Tetawani sitting here in the dark, while you are sleeping and
snoring in your dirt."

There was a whispered conference on the inside, then a rattle of keys,
and then the gate groaned back on its hinges. At the next moment two
of the four gatemen were on their knees at the feet of Israel's horse,
asking forgiveness by grace of Allah and his Prophet. In the meantime,
the other two had sped away to the Kasbah, and before Israel had
ridden far into the town, the Kaid--against all usage of his class and
country--ran and met him--afoot, slipperless, wearing nothing but selham
and tarboosh, out of breath, yet with a mouth full of excuses.

"I heard you were coming," he panted--"sent for by the Sultan--Allah
preserve him!--but had I known you were to be here so soon--I--that
is--"

"Peace be with you!" interrupted Israel.

"God grant you peace. The Sultan--praise the merciful Allah!" the Kaid
continued, bowing low over Israel's stirrup--"he reached Fez from
Marrakesh last sunset; you will be in time for him."

"God will show," said Israel, and he pushed forward.

"Ah, true--yes--certainly--my lord is tired," puffed the Kaid, bowing
again most profoundly. "Well, your lodging is ready--the best in
Mequinez--and your mona is cooking--all the dainties of Barbary--and
when our merciful Abd er-Rahman has made you his Grand Vizier--"

Thus the man chattered like a jay, bowing low at nigh every word, until
they came to the house wherein Israel and his people w