rs?" inquired the sheikh. "His dress, I observe, differs
from yours. Is he one of your people?"

"That man, O sheikh, is a faithful follower of ours; a lion in war, and
a lamb in peace when not interfered with," I answered, looking at Ben,
who was at that minute engaged in a struggle with a dozen or more
Ouadlims, from whom he had broken loose, and who were again trying to
bind his hands.

"Let him be allowed to come here at liberty, and I will prove that what
I state regarding him is true," I added.

The sheikh shouted to his followers, and I called Ben to come to us. As
he did so, he pulled off his hat, which he flourished in the air, and
made the sheikh a polite bow. Then putting out his hand, he exclaimed--

"Give us your flipper, old fellow, and we will be good friends!--only,
tell your people to keep decent tongues in their heads, and their hands
to themselves."

"What is he talking about?" asked the sheikh, who, of course, did not
understand a word Ben had said, and was unable to comprehend his
movements.

"He says that he is ready to fight for and serve you, O sheikh, as he
has served his own chief," I answered. "You will find him faithful to
yourself, and a terror to your enemies, while he remains with you."

I said this for the sake of getting Ben well treated, though it was an
imprudent observation--and I was wrong in saying what was not the
truth--as the sheikh might not be willing to part with Ben again. But
for the present it answered its object; for the sheikh, bidding us all
three follow him, led the way to the entrance of his tent, to the
astonishment of his followers. Though it was considerably larger than a
gipsy tent in England, it had much the appearance of one. The cover
consisted of camel-hair cloth, supported by a couple of long poles in
the centre, the skirts being stretched out and fastened to the ground by
pegs. Heaps of sand were also piled up, as a further security to
prevent it being blown away. The ground inside was covered with a dirty
piece of carpet, while a few pots hanging to the tent-poles formed the
whole of the furniture.

The women of the tribe were most of them even more ugly than the men;
and though they were decently clothed as to quantity, their garments
were dirty in the extreme. They appeared to go about the camp as freely
as the men, who showed no anger or annoyance when we looked at them,--
which, as Ben observed, was not surprising, considering how hid