oked into the
hut, and roughly said in Arabic, 'Come over to me, dog; thou art mine.
Kiss the shoe of thy master'--adding in his native tongue, 'For ance,
sir. It maun be done before these loons.'

Certainly the ceremony would have been felt as less humiliating towards
almost anybody else, but Arthur endured it; and then was led away to the
tents beyond the gate.

'There, sir,' said Yusuf, 'it ill sorts your father's son to be in sic a
case, but it canna be helpit. I culd na leave behind the bonny Scots
tongue, let alane the gude Leddy Hope's son.'

'You have been very good to me, Yusuf,' said Arthur, his pride much
softened by the merchant's evident sense of the situation. 'I know you
mean me well, but the boy--'

'Hoots! the bairn is happy eno'. He will come to higher preferment than
even you or I. Why, mon, an Aga of the Janissaries is as good as the
Deuk himsel'.'

'Yusuf, I am very grateful--I believe you must have paid heavily to spare
me from ill usage.'

'Ye may say that, sir. Forty piastres of Tunis, and eight mules, and twa
pair of silver-mounted pistols. The extortionate rogue wad hae had the
little dagger, but I stood out against that.'

'I see, I am deeply beholden,' said Arthur; 'but it would be tenfold
better if you would take him instead of me!'

'What for suld I do that? He is nae countryman of mine--one side French
and the other Irish. He is naught to me.'

'He is heir to a noble house,' waged Arthur. 'They will reward you amply
for saving him.'

'Mair like to girn at me for a Moor. Na, na! Hae na I dune enough for
ye, Maister Arthur--giving half my beasties, and more than half my
silver? Canna ye be content without that whining bairn?'

'I should be a forsworn man to be content to leave the child, whose dead
mother prayed me to protect him, and those who will turn him from her
faith. See, now, I am a man, and can guard myself, by the grace of God;
but to leave the poor child here would be letting these men work their
will on him ere any ransom could come. His mother would deem it giving
him up to perdition. Let me remain here, and take the helpless child.
You know how to bargain. His price might be my ransom.'

'Ay, when the jackals and hyenas have picked your banes, or you have died
under the lash, chained to the oar, as I hae seen, Maister Arthur.'

'Better so than betray the dead woman's trust. How no--'

For there was a pattering of feet, a cry of 'Arthur, Arthur