ene unique in its beauty, yet not often beheld in so sheltered a spot
as Mecca.

The exiles, with tearful eyes, looked upon the fair landscape, which
thus seemed to bid them an inanimate farewell. Then, as the glow paled
and the rocks again took their sombre hue, and the city faded in
redoubled shadow, the little band turned slowly away, and followed in
the wake of the caravan now winding through the pass at some distance.

The Hebrew band consisted of twenty souls, among whom were Sherah, the
daughter of Asru, and her mother, and the old white-haired man Benjamin,
who had preached in the church and had become a father indeed to Asru's
family.

Needless to speak of the long, tedious journey. Suffice it to say that,
while the caravan wound through the north of El Hejaz, Kedar and
Manasseh turned aside to the fresher plateaux of the Nejd, and the
Bedouin once more found himself amid the scenes of his boyhood.

His spirits rose as the cool breeze from the plains struck him. The
vision of sweet home--sweet to the roving Bedouin as to the pampered
child of luxury--rose before him, and he urged his horse on with an
ever-increasing anxiety.

From neighboring tribes they found out the way to Musa's present
encampment, then, spurring their horses on over a crisp plain, and
beguiling the time with many a laugh and jest, they proceeded in the
direction indicated, until, in a broad valley, the circle of tents lay
before them.

"Come, Manasseh," said Kedar, "let us give them a surprise. Let us take
a turn up yonder hill and swoop down upon them like a falcon."

"Agreed!" quoth Manasseh; and, with almost childish pleasure, they
proceeded to make a short detour, and then galloped rapidly down from
the hill-crest.

The encampment was strangely quiet.

"What is the matter, Manasseh?" asked Kedar. "There is scarcely anyone
about."

A few dogs now set up a savage barking, and a man came out with a heavy
whip and drove them, yelping, away.

"What is wrong, Tema?" asked Kedar, anxiously.

"Alas, my young master," said the man, "your father will soon be no
more."

The youth sprang to the ground and entered the chief's tent. There lay
the brave old Sheikh, dying, as he had scorned to die, in his bed, with
pallid face and closed eyes, his gray hair damp and tangled, and his
grizzled beard descending upon his brawny chest, from which the folds of
his garments were drawn back. About him knelt his wife and children.
Lois raised