lle of the Desert. Strings of black beads hung over her
wrinkled bosom; circlets of white bone were set in her hair; armlets and
bangles adorned her wrists and ankles, and altogether did her costume
and behavior betoken one distinguished among the crowd of his
persecutors,--in short, their sultana or queen.

And such did she prove; for on the black sheik appropriating the old
sailor as a stake fairly won in the game, and rescuing his
newly-acquired property from the danger of being damaged, Fatima
followed him to his tent with such demonstrations as showed her to be,
if not the "favorite," certainly the head of the harem.

CHAPTER XXIV.

STARTING ON THE TRACK.

As already said, the mirth of the three midshipmen was brought to a
quick termination. It ended on the instant of Sailor Bill's
disappearance behind the spur of the sand-hills. At the same instant all
three came to a stop, and stood regarding one another with looks of
uneasiness and apprehension.

All agreed that the maherry had made away with the old man-o'-war's-man.
There could be no doubt about it. Bill's shouts, as he was hurried out
of their hearing, proved that he was doing his best to bring to, and
that the "ship of the desert" would not yield obedience to her helm.

They wondered a little why he had not slipped off, and let the animal
go. They could not see why he should fear to drop down in the soft sand.
He might have had a tumble, but nothing to do him any serious
injury,--nothing to break a bone, or dislocate a joint. They supposed he
had stuck to the saddle, from not wishing to abandon the maherry, and in
hope of soon bringing it to a halt.

This was just what he had done, for the first three or four hundred
yards. After that he would only have been too well satisfied to separate
from the camel, and let it go its way. But then he was among the rough,
jaggy rocks through which the path led, and then dismounting was no
longer to be thought of, without also thinking of danger, considering
that the camel was nearly ten feet in height, and going at a pitching
pace of ten miles to the hour. To have forsaken his saddle at that
moment would have been to risk the breaking of his neck.

From where they stood looking after him, the mids could not make out the
character of the ground. Under the light of the moon, the surface seemed
all of a piece,--all a bed of smooth soft sand! For this reason were
they perplexed by his behavior.

There was