yards from where his brother stood, and in full view of the Emir and his
men, when in obedience to a light check the horse stopped short, falling
back almost upon its haunches, and as all gazed wonderingly across at
where the rider sat they saw him gesticulate angrily at the waiting
slave, as if ordering him to approach.

Harry Frere ran to him at once, and Frank threw one leg out of the
stirrup, pointing downward, and in dumb show bade him lengthen the
stirrup leather, pointing out that he had been riding with his knees up
towards his chin.

The Emir laughed to himself, and his followers smiled at the absurd way
in which these strangers loved to ride, while one of the many officers
laughingly pointed to the long stirrup of the visitor's horse, but no
one stirred; they only watched what was going on some thirty or forty
yards away.

For it was simple in the extreme: Frank sat looking down haughtily, and
his brother with deft fingers rapidly unbuckled and readjusted the
stirrup leather, looking up once at the masterful black who could not
speak but signified his commands with haughty looks and impatient signs.

It was all commonplace, and the spectators waited patiently, seeing the
glance up of the slave, the trying of the left stirrup, and the
impatient, imperious gesture to the man to adjust the other leather, the
rider swinging himself round with his back to the Emir as the white
slave darted under the horse's neck and seized the right stirrup, his
face hidden by the horse from every one in the court, while it was
perfectly natural that the rider with his back to the Emir should bend
down as if watching the alteration being made.

The next moment the obedient slave disobeyed, for a low, soft,
impassioned voice said in English--

"For Heaven's sake don't start!"

He started violently, and began to tremble in every limb.

"Help is near at hand. Do what I say. Fall, have some accident, and be
very bad. Do you understand?"

"Yes, yes," came in a hoarse, trembling voice.

"Then ask for the Hakim to save your life."

"Yes, yes, but--but--who are you?"

"Hush! Quick! Alter that stirrup for your life!"

Harry Frere uttered a low groan, and his brother felt that he was about
to swoon and fall. But he dared speak no more. The time had come to
act, and with an angry gesture he rose up in his seat and threw his arm
over as if to draw his sword and strike with the flat of the blade at
the dilatory attendant