e; and ordered his
companions to prepare immediately for the continuance of their journey.

Sidi Hamet was called, and asked by Rais Abdallah if he would sell some
of the stones they had saved from the infidel ship.

"Bismillah! No!" exclaimed the wrecker. "You say they are of no value,
and I do not wish to cheat any true believer of the prophet."

"Will you _give_ me some of them, then?"

"No! Allah forbid that Sidi Hamet should ever make a worthless present
to a friend!"

"I am a merchant," rejoined the old sheik; "and wish to do business.
Have you any slaves, or other property you can sell me?"

"Yes! You see that Christian dog," replied the wrecker, pointing to
Sailor Bill's brother; "I will sell him."

"You have promised to take me to Swearah," interrupted Jim. "Do not sell
me, master; I think I shall get well some time, and will then work for
you as hard as I can."

Sidi Hamet cast upon his infidel slave a look of contempt at this
allusion to his illness; but Jim's remark, and the angry glance, were
both unheeded by the Arab sheik.

The slave's pretended wishes not to be sold were disregarded; and for
the consideration of an old shirt and a small camel-hair tent, he became
the property of Rais Abdallah Yezzed.

The old sheik and his followers then betook themselves to their camels;
and the kafila was hurried up the dry bed of the river,--leaving the
wreckers to continue their toilsome and unprofitable task.

CHAPTER LXVI.

SAILOR BILL'S BROTHER.

After leaving the coast, the travellers kept at a quick pace, and Sailor
Bill and his brother had but little opportunity of holding converse
together. When the douar had been pitched for the night, the old salt
and the "young gentlemen," his companions, gathered around the man whose
experience in the miseries of Saaeran slavery so far exceeded their own.

"Now, Jim," began the old man-o'-war's-man, "you must spin us the yarn
of all your cruising since you've been here. We've seen somethin' o' the
elephant since we've been cast ashore, and that's not long. I don't
wonder at you sayin' you 'ave been aboard this craft forty-three years."

"Yes, that is the correct time according to my reckoning," interrupted
Jim; "but, Bill, you don't look much older than when I saw you last. How
long ago was it?"

"About eleven years."

"Eleven years! I tell you that I've been here over forty."

"'Ow can that be?" asked Bill. "Daze it, man, you'll not be forty