d been rescued from some Albanian pirates by an English ship,
which held the Turks as allies, and thus saved them from undergoing
vengeance for the sufferings of the Greeks. Thus the good old man felt
that he owed a debt of gratitude which Allah required him to pay, even to
the infidel.

Up steep roads the mules climbed. The first night the halt was at a
Cabyle village, where hospitality was eagerly offered to persons of such
high reputation for sanctity as the Marabouts; but afterwards habitations
grew more scanty as the ground rose higher, and there was no choice but
to encamp in the tents brought by the attendants, and which seemed to
Arthur a good exchange for the dirty Cabyle huts.

Altogether the journey took six days. The mules climbed along wild paths
on the verge of giddy precipices, where even on foot Arthur would have
hesitated to venture. The scenery would now be thought magnificent, but
it was simply frightful to the mind of the early eighteenth century,
especially when a constant watch had to be kept to avoid the rush of
stones, or avalanches, on an almost imperceptible, nearly perpendicular
path, where it was needful to trust to the guidance of the Sunakite, the
only one of the cavalcade who had been there before.

On the last day they found themselves on the borders of a slope of pines
and other mountain-growing trees, bordering a wide valley or ravine where
the Sunakite hinted that Abderrahman might be found.

The cavalcade pursued a path slightly indicated by the treading of feet
and hoofs, and presently there emerged on them from a slighter side track
between the red stems of the great pines a figure nearly bent double
under the weight of two huge faggots, with a basket of great solid fir-
cones on the top of them. Very scanty garments seemed to be vouchsafed
to him, and the bare arms and legs were so white, as well as of a length
so unusual among Arabs or Moors, that simultaneously the Marabout
exclaimed, 'One of the Giaour captives,' and Arthur cried out, 'La
Jeunesse! Laurence!'

There was only just time for a start and a response, 'M. Arture! And is
it yourself?' before a howl of vituperation was heard--of abuse of all
the ancestry of the cur of an infidel slave, the father of tardiness--and
a savage-looking man appeared, brandishing a cudgel, with which he was
about to belabour his unfortunate slave, when he was arrested by
astonishment, and perhaps terror, at the goodly company of Mar