entrance of his slave.

"Ben-Ahmed," said the middy, with vehemence, "the father of the English
girl you are so fond of--and whom I _love_--is in terrible danger, and
if you are a true man--as I firmly believe you are--you will save him."

The Moor smiled very slightly at the youth's vehemence, pointed with the
mouthpiece of his hookah to a cushion, and bade him sit down and tell
him all about it.

The middy at once squatted _a la Turk_, not on the cushion, but on the
floor, in front of his master, and, with earnest voice and gesture,
related the story which Peter the Great had just told him.

Ben-Ahmed was visibly affected by it.

"But how can I save him?" he asked, with a look of perplexity.

"Did you not once save the life of the Dey?" asked Foster.

"I did. How came you to know that?"

"I heard it from Peter the Great, who aided you on the occasion. And he
told me that the Dey has often since then offered to do you some good
turn, but that you have always declined."

"That is true," said Ben-Ahmed, with the look of a man into whose mind a
new idea had been introduced.

"Yes, something may be done in that way, and it would grieve me that the
father of my poor little Hester should die. I will try. Go, have my
horse saddled, and send Peter to me."

Our midshipman bounded rather than rose from the floor, and uttered an
irresistible, "God bless you," as he vanished through the doorway on his
errand.

"Peter," he cried--encountering that worthy as he ran--"we'll manage it!
Go to Ben-Ahmed! He wants you--quick! I'm off to fetch his horse."

Foster was much too anxious to have the thing done quickly to give the
order to the head groom. He ran direct to the stable, and, choosing the
fleetest of the Moor's Arab steeds, quickly put on its crimson saddle,
with its un-European peaks before and behind, and the other gay portions
of harness with which Easterns are wont to caparison their horses.

In a wonderfully short space of time he had the steed round to the front
door, and sent another slave to tell his master that it was ready.

The Moor had also caparisoned himself, if we may say so, for the
intended visit, and he had evidently done it in haste. Nevertheless,
his gait was stately, and his movements were slow, as he gravely mounted
the horse and rode away. The impatience of the middy was somewhat
relieved, however, when he saw that Ben-Ahmed, on reaching the main
road, put spurs to his horse, and ro