ou take your slaves into the city, you will lose them."

"I shall not bring them into the empire of Morocco," replied Bo Muzem,
"until I have first received the money for them."

"You will never get it in Swearah. Their consul will not pay a dollar,
but will try to have them liberated without giving you anything."

"But I have a letter from one of the slaves to his uncle, a rich
merchant in Swearah. The uncle will pay the money."

"The slave has lied to you. He has no uncle there, and I can soon
convince you that such is the case. There is now staying in this
village a Mogador Jew, who is acquainted with every infidel merchant in
the city, and he also understands the languages they speak. Let him see
the letter."

Anxious to be convinced of whether he was being deceived or not, Bo
Muzem readily agreed to this proposition; and in company with the
grazier, he repaired to the house where the Jew was residing.

The latter, on being shown Harry's letter, and asked to whom it was
addressed, replied--

"To any English merchant in Mogador."

"Bismillah!" exclaimed Bo Muzem. "All English merchants cannot be
uncles to the young dog who wrote this letter!"

"Tell me," added he, "did you ever hear of an English merchant in
Mogador named `For-God-sake-bias?'"

The Jew smiled, and with some difficulty restraining an inclination to
laugh outright at the question, gave the Arab a translation of the
words, "For God's sake, buy us."

Bo Muzem was now satisfied that he had been "sold."

"I shall get no further," said he, after they had parted with the Jew.
"I shall return to my partners. We shall kill the Christian dog who
wrote the letter and sell his two companions for what we can get for
them."

"That is your best plan," rejoined the grazier. "They do not deserve
freedom; and may Allah forbid that hereafter any true believer should
try to help them to it!"

Early next morning Bo Muzem set out on his return journey, thankful for
the good fortune that had enabled him so early to detect the imposture
that was being practised upon him.

He was accompanied by the grazier, who chanced to be journeying in the
same direction.

"The next Christian slaves I see for sale I intend buying," remarked the
latter, as they journeyed along.

"Bismillah!" exclaimed Bo Muzem; "that is strange. I thought you had
had enough of them?"

"So I have," assented the grazier; "but that's just why I want more of
them. I want reveng