ointed to the shattered Orme, who sat swaying on his camel with eyes
half closed.

"Noble sir," she said, addressing him, "if you can, tell me what has
happened. I am Maqueda of the Abati, she who is named Child of Kings.
Look at the symbol on my brow, and you will see that I speak truth,"
and, throwing back her veil, she revealed the coronet of gold that
showed her rank.

CHAPTER VII

BARUNG

At the sound of this soft voice (the extreme softness of Maqueda's voice
was always one of her greatest charms), Orme opened his eyes and stared
at her.

"Very queer dream," I heard him mutter. "Must be something in the
Mohammedan business after all. Extremely beautiful woman, and that gold
thing looks well on her dark hair."

"What does the lord your companion say?" asked Maqueda of me.

Having first explained that he was suffering from shock, I translated
word for word, whereon Maqueda blushed to her lovely violet eyes and let
fall her veil in a great hurry. In the confusion which ensued, I heard
Quick saying to his master:

"No, no, sir; this one ain't no houri. She's a flesh and blood queen,
and the pleasantest to look at I ever clapped eyes on, though a
benighted African Jew. Wake up, Captain, wake up; you are out of that
hell-fire now. It's got the Fung, not you."

The word Fung seemed to rouse Orme.

"Yes," he said; "I understand. The vapour of the stuff poisoned me, but
it is passing now. Adams, ask that lady how many men she's got with her.
What does she say? About five hundred? Well, then, let her attack Harmac
at once. The outer and inner gates are down; the Fung think they have
raised the devil and will run. She can inflict a defeat on them from
which they will not recover for years, only it must be done at once,
before they get their nerve again, for, after all, they are more
frightened than hurt."

Maqueda listened to this advice intently.

"It is to my liking; it is very good," she said in her quaint archaic
Arabic when I had finished translating. "But I must consult my Council.
Where is my uncle, the prince Joshua?"

"Here, Lady," answered a voice from the press behind, out of which
presently emerged, mounted on a white horse, a stout man, well advanced
in middle age, with a swarthy complexion and remarkably round, prominent
eyes. He was clad in the usual Eastern robes, richly worked, over which
he wore a shirt of chain-mail, and on his head a helmet, with mail
flaps, an attire that gave the g