ndian
file from the low level of the excavation to the place in the desert
where they threw down their burdens.

The _gaphir_ led his master a few steps from where the staircase had
been excavated the day before and then bade him look own. Freddy's
quick eye detected a horizontal line of masonry, the beginning of a
strongly-built wall. The men had earthed it that morning, it was only
a narrow strip, but it would have been against the strictest rules to
have excavated more without informing the "Effendi."

The _gaphir_, a splendid man and very reliable, adored his enthusiastic
English master, whose good looks and well-bred, unfailing courtesy of
speech alone would have made his personality irresistible to the Arab.
Added to his good looks and to his manner of "one who is born to be
obeyed," Freddy had courage and great ability and--best of all in the
_gaphir's_ eyes--a silent respect for the teachings of the Prophet.

After an inspection of the various points of excavation and a word of
greeting here and there had been passed with upper workmen, those who
had showed an intelligent interest in their work, Freddy returned to
the exciting spot and with two or three men who had "fingers" and a
"sense" of things, began his morning's picking.

While he worked away with youthful energy and an almost inspired
intelligence, he could hear the toilers with the rubbish-baskets
singing their monotonous chants. The word "Allah, Allah" came
repeatedly to his ears. He had grown so accustomed to the words of
their chants that he followed them subconsciously; the words "Allah,
Lord of Kindness, Giver of Ease," rang out with monotonous persistence.
Allah was to ease their burdens; Allah was to moisten their dry lips;
the "Lord of the Worlds" was to hasten the time when the poor man might
sit in the shade and smell the sweet scents of paradise and listen to
the sound of running waters.

They chanted verses from the Koran as Jack Tars sing sea songs. In
Mohammedan lands the song of Allah never dies.

Only occasionally Freddy heard the quaint words of some popular
love-song, coming from the lips of one of the higher-class Arab
workmen, a song as old as their tales of _The Thousand and One Nights_.
One was drifting to his half-conscious ears at the moment; he was
familiar with every word of it.

"A lover says to his dove, 'Send me your wings for a day.' The dove
replied, 'The affair is vain.' I said, 'Some other day, that I may