e and now."

So I went at once with the message. But Joshua was far too clever to be
drawn into any such dangerous adventure.

Nothing, he said, would have given him greater joy than to hack the head
from the shoulders of this dog of a Gentile sheik. But, unhappily, owing
to the conduct of one of us foreigners, he had been thrown from his
horse, and hurt his back, so that he could scarcely stand, much less
fight a duel.

So I returned with my answer, whereat Barung smiled and said nothing.
Only, taking from his neck a gold chain which he wore, he proffered it
to Quick, who, as he said, had induced the prince Joshua to show his
horsemanship if not his courage. Then he bowed to us, one by one, and
before the Abati could make up their mind whether to follow him or not,
galloped off swiftly with his companions toward Harmac.

Such was our introduction to Barung, Sultan of the Fung, a barbarian
with many good points, among them courage, generosity, and appreciation
of those qualities even in a foe, characteristics that may have been
intensified by the blood of his mother, who, I am told, was an Arab
of high lineage captured by the Fung in war and given as a wife to the
father of Barung.

CHAPTER VIII

THE SHADOW OF FATE

Our ride from the plains up the pass that led to the high tableland of
Mur was long and, in its way, wonderful enough. I doubt whether in the
whole world there exists another home of men more marvellously defended
by nature. Apparently the road by which we climbed was cut in the first
instance, not by human hands, but by the action of primaeval floods,
pouring, perhaps, from the huge lake which doubtless once covered the
whole area within the circle of the mountains, although to-day it is
but a moderate-sized sheet of water, about twenty miles long by ten in
breadth. However this may be, the old inhabitants had worked on it, the
marks of their tools may still be seen upon the rock.

For the first mile or two the road is broad and the ascent so gentle
that my horse was able to gallop up it on that dreadful night when,
after seeing my son's face, accident, or rather Providence, enabled me
to escape the Fung. But from the spot where the lions pulled the poor
beast down, its character changes. In places it is so narrow that
travellers must advance in single file between walls of rock hundreds
of feet high, where the sky above looks like a blue ribbon, and even at
midday the path below is plunged in