To be sure, the unlawfulness of
the steps he was taking, occurred to him, as he saddled his horse to
ride to the column; to be sure, he thought of the anguish Prince Omar
would suffer, betrayed in his fair hopes; but the die was cast, and he
could not undo what had already been done, and his vanity whispered to
him that he looked stately enough to be presented to the most powerful
king as a son. Encouraged by such thoughts, he swung himself into his
saddle, mustered all his courage to stand the ordeal of a gallop, and
in less than fifteen minutes he reached the foot of the hill. He
dismounted from his horse and tied it to a bush, and then drew out
Prince Omar's dagger and ascended the hill.

At the foot of the column stood six men around an aged man of kingly
appearance. A splendid kaftan of cloth of gold, with a white cashmere
shawl wound about it, and a white turban ornamented with sparkling
jewels, denoted him to be a man of wealth and rank.

Labakan went up to him, made a low obeisance, and offered him the
dagger, saying: "Here am I whom you seek."

[Illustration]

"Praised be the Prophet, who preserved you!" replied the old man with
tears of joy. "Embrace your old father, my beloved son Omar!" The good
tailor was much moved by these solemn words, and with a mixture of joy
and shame sank into the arms of the aged prince.

But only for an instant was he permitted to enjoy undisturbed the
delight of his new surroundings; for as he arose from the embrace of
the elderly prince, he saw a horseman hastening across the plain
towards the hill. The rider and his horse presented a singular
appearance. The horse, either from stubbornness or exhaustion, could
hardly be urged forward, but moved with a stumbling gait that could be
called neither a walk nor a trot, while his rider was using both hands
and feet to force him to a faster pace. Only too soon Labakan
recognized his horse, Murva, and the genuine Prince Omar; but the
wicked Father of Lies once more took possession of him, and he
determined that, whatever the result might be, he would maintain his
pretended rights with a bold face.

The rider's gestures had been seen while he was still at a distance;
but now, in spite of the feeble trot of his horse, he had arrived at
the foot of the hill, thrown himself from his horse, and rushed up the
hill.

"Stay, there!" cried he, "Stop, whoever you may be, and do not let
yourselves be misled by the shameful impostor! My na