ner."

"But by the beard of the Prophet!" exclaimed one of the young fellows;
"everything there has the appearance of a wedding or other festival;
and still it is the anniversary of his greatest sorrow. Come, how will
you harmonize this discrepancy? Confess that the sheik is somewhat
shattered in mind."

"Do you always render such a hasty verdict, my young friend?" asked the
old man, smiling. "This time also your arrow was pointed and sharp, and
the string of your bow drawn tight; and yet your arrow flew wide of the
mark. Know, then, that to-day the sheik expects his son!"

"Then he is found?" shouted the young men joyfully.

"No, and it will probably be a long time before he is found. But
listen: Eight or ten years ago, as the sheik was passing this
anniversary in sorrow and lamentations, also freeing slaves and giving
food and drink to the poor, it so happened that he also gave food and
drink to a dervish, who, tired and faint, lay in the shadow of his
house. Now the dervish was a holy man, and experienced in prophecies
and the signs of the stars. After his refreshment by the kind hand of
the sheik, he went up to him and said: 'I know the cause of your
sorrow; is not today the twelfth of Ramadan, and was it not on this day
that you lost your son? But cheer up, for this day of sadness shall be
changed to one of joy; know that on this same day your son will
sometime return to you.'

"Thus spake the dervish. It would be a sin for a Mussulman to doubt the
word of such a man, and although the sorrow of Ali Banu may not have
been lessened thereby, yet he continues to look for the return of his
son on this day, and adorns his house and porch and steps as though
little Kairam might arrive at any moment."

"Wonderful!" exclaimed the writer. "But I should like to see the
decorations inside the house, and note how the sheik bears himself
amongst all this splendor; but, above all, I should like to listen to
the tales that are related to him by his slaves."

"Nothing easier to arrange than that," replied the old man. "The
steward of the slaves of that house has been my friend these many
years, and would not grudge me a seat in the _salon_, where, among the
crowd of servants and friends of the sheik, a single stranger would not
be noticed. I will speak to him about letting you in; there are only
four of you, and it might be arranged. Come at the ninth hour to this
square, and I will give you an answer."

The young men ret