the figure. Each had already provided himself
with a number of pellets of camels' dung, which were now placed in the
holes, and the play of "helga" was now commenced.

Whoever won the game was to become possessed of the single stake, which
was neither more nor less than Sailor Bill.

The game proceeded by the shifting of the dung pellets in a particular
fashion, from hole to hole, somewhat similar to the moving of draughts
upon the squares of a chequer-board.

During the play not a word was spoken by either party, the two sheiks
squatting opposite each other, and making their moves with as much
gravity as a pair of chess-players engaged in some grand tournament of
this intellectual game.

It was only when the affair ended that the noise broke forth again,
which it did in loud triumphant shouts from the conquering party, with
expressions of chagrin on the side of the conquered.

By interpreting these shouts Bill could tell that he had fallen to the
black; and this was soon after placed beyond doubt by the latter coming
up and taking possession of him.

It appeared, however, that there had been certain subsiding conditions
to the play; and that the sailor had been in some way or another staked
against his own clothes, for before being fully appropriated by his
owner he was stripped to his shirt, and his habiliments, shoes and
sou'wester included, were handed over to the sheik who had played
second-best in the game of "helga". In this forlorn condition was the
old sailor conducted to the tent of his sable master, and placed like an
additional piece upon the pile of plunder already apportioned.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

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 knowle