in a soft sky.

It was dark when they reached the appointed halting-place, in a wady of
the foothills, close to a village which possessed a spring of water.
They found their tent well-pitched, a good fire burning in the shelter
of a cunning wind-screen, and the kettle boiling. They had tea at
once, and afterwards Iskender went to cook the supper. His lord soon
followed with desire to help.

"It's splendid fun!" he cried. "You are a trump, Iskender!"

Iskender answered nothing, but gave praise to Allah.

CHAPTER XVIII

About the third hour of a cloudless day Elias Abdul Messih crossed the
sandhills from the northward, traversed the gardens, and approached the
town. He was riding a showy horse, which he caused to prance whenever
any one was looking; and had assumed the panoply of the fashionable
dragoman. His slim but manly figure well became a tight and
many-buttoned vest of murrey velvet, a zouave jacket of blue silky
cloth, and baggy trousers of the same material, whose superfluous
lengths were tucked away in riding-boots of undressed leather. A
scarlet dust-cloak streamed from off his shoulders. The tassel of his
fez, worn far back on the head and dinted knowingly fluttered on the
breeze; the tassels on his bridle led a dance.

In his wake followed two fat, middle-aged men, set one behind the other
on a donkey's back, of whom the hindmost held a rope which led four
mules laden with all the requisites of Frankish travel.

Elias flourished in his hand the silver-mounted whip of rhinoceros-hide
which he had long ago reclaimed from the Emir. The pride of a leader
of men informed his bearing as he brought his train at last through the
crowded market, shouting loftily to clear a way.

Arrived at the khan where he was accustomed to hire beasts of burden,
he was preparing to dismount, when a man ran out and, stooping, kissed
his stirrup. It was the muleteer who had been first retained by
Iskender.

"May Allah keep thee, O my dear!" exclaimed Elias, cheered by such
worship in a public place. "What news in the town to-day?"

The muleteer raised hands and eyes to heaven.

"Grave news, O my lord Elias. They sent me about my business, and are
gone without thee."

"Merciful Allah!" cried Elias, stupefied. "Gone, sayest thou? They
are gone, the miscreants? . . . But it is impossible. Gone, sayest
thou? When and how did they go?"

In vain did he strive to discredit the muleteer's story, throwing