his eye. "But
where is that whip of thine, Tifum?"

"Here, my chief, at the door of the house," said he, rising to fetch it.

"Give it me." And giving Selim a severe stroke with it across his
shoulders, he ordered him to stand back, and Tifum to cut the bonds of
the boys Abdullah and Mussoud.

Then, commanding the youths to be brought before him, he told Tifum to
tell Abdullah to dance and Mussoud to sing.

For awhile Abdullah hung down his head in confusion, not seeming to
understand or to realise that _he_, the son of Mohammed, was actually
required to dance by the slayer of his father; while Mussoud looked from
Abdullah to the chief Ferodia's face in quite a foolish way.

"Ask him, Tifum," said Abdullah, in a trembling voice, "if Ferodia
understands what he requires of me."

"Why need I ask him? Do I not tell you that he commands you to dance,
and the other slave to sing?"

"Slave!" shouted Abdullah, recovering quickly firmness of tone in his
voice. "Slave! Lying dog! Do you call my brother a slave? Am I a
slave?"

"What does he say?" thundered Ferodia.

"He says he is not a slave, and calls me a liar. They are all asses and
sons of asses," replied Tifum. "Verily, though they own hundreds of
black slaves at Zanzibar, they don't seem to know that the chance of war
has made them slaves."

"Tell him, Tifum, that I say he is a slave, he and his brother; that
they shall be my slaves; that they shall do whatever I bid them, and if
not, that I will punish them until they do. Ferodia speaks."

"Do you hear and understand, asses and sons of asses?" asked Tifum of
Abdullah and Mussoud. "Do ye hear, children of the Arabs? Ferodia the
chief tells you that you shall be his slaves to do his bidding, and if
you do not, he will punish you. Listen to the chief's words, and obey
him."

"We are Arabs," said Abdullah, proudly tossing, his head back, while his
chest seemed to dilate with the great thought. "We are Arabs, and
children of the Arabs of Muscat. A chief of the free Bedaween was my
father Mohammed, and I am his son Abdullah. The desert wind is not
freer than our never-conquered race, and every child of that race is
free. We, therefore, cannot be slaves. Ferodia has lied."

"Tell him, Tifum, that I will beat him until he is bleeding on this
floor--until he confesses himself my slave."

"Ferodia says he will beat you, Abdullah, if that be your name, until
you bleed on this floor."

"Tell hi