the fire, chased by the infuriate Isa. As Isa
passed near one side of the fire, Niani, the little negro boy called
Monkey, who had hitherto been very quiet, seeing a chance to assist
Abdullah, who had praised Selim, thrust his foot forward; and Isa, too
much occupied in watching the manoeuvres of Abdullah, struck his shins
against the obstacle, and came heavily to the ground.

A shout of laughter greeted his fall; but the amusement of Selim was
soon changed to real concern as he saw that Isa had quickly recovered
himself, and had sprung upon Niani, and catching hold of him by the
throat and legs, was carrying him to the great log-fire, to warm him, as
he said.

Niani struggled and screamed, but in vain. Isa's ears were closed
against a little slave's cries, and he would probably have made good his
threat had not Selim, Khamis, and Mussoud, aided by Simba and Moto,
interfered, and cried out, "Enough, enough, son of Mohammed. Be not
wrathful with a little slave."

As Arabs dislike to see scuffling, or at least always interfere in cases
of this kind, it is not to be wondered at Khamis taking the part of
Niani, or Simba and Moto exerting their manhood to prevent cruelty; but
Niani was not released scot-free; he received several energetic slaps
and kicks, which accelerated his departure to a safer distance.

This incident broke up the meeting. Simba and Moto withdrew to their
mats on each side of their master Amer's tent. Khamis, Isa, and Mussoud
retired to their respective parents' tents, and Selim entered the tent
of Amer bin Osman.

Sheikh Amer was seated on his mat in the tent, writing by the light of a
single tallow candle on a large broad sheet of stiff white paper; but as
Selim entered he put his papers by, and bending on his son an earnest
and melancholy look, said:

"My son, light of my soul and joy of my heart, come to me, and do thou
sit by me that I may feel thy cheery presence. Dost thou know that my
soul feels heavy to-night, as if some great affliction was about to
visit me?"

"And what, my father," replied the boy, bending a loving look on him,
"couldst thou fear? Art thou not surrounded by kind friends and
servants who love thee as their father?"

"Nay, my son, it is not fear that I feel, but a vague foreshadowing of
evil which none can feel save those who have much to lose. On whose
head the evil will fall I know not, nor do I know from what direction
the evil may come; but that evil is ni