s in my days of heathendom that I did it, thinking it a duty to
Heaven. It was Yusuf the priest who did it, not Yusuf the man; yet Yusuf
the man bears the torture of it in his bosom, and seeks forgiveness for
the blackest spot in his life! How knew you this, Amzi?--if the question
be an honorable one."

"Amzi knows much," returned the Meccan. "He knows, too, that Yusuf can
never escape the brand of the priesthood. See!"

He leaned forward, and drew back the loose garment from the Persian's
breast. A red burn, or scar, in the form of a torch, appeared in the
flesh. As Yusuf hastened to cover it, a head was thrust forward, and two
bead-like eyes peered from a shrouded face. It was the little dervish.

The priest was annoyed at the intrusion. He determined to take note of
the meddler, but the occurrence of an event common in the desert drove
all thought of the dervish from his mind.

The cry "A simoom! A simoom!" arose throughout the caravan.

There, far towards the horizon, was a dense mass of dull, copper-colored
cloud, rising and surging like the waves of a mad ocean. It spread
rapidly upwards toward the zenith, and a dull roar sounded from afar
off, broken by a peculiar shrieking whistle. And now dense columns could
be seen, bent backward in trailing wreaths of copper at the top,
changing and swaying before the hurricane, yet ever holding the form of
vapory, yellow pillars,--huge shafts extending from earth to heaven, and
rapidly advancing with awful menace upon the terrified multitude.

The Arabs screamed, helpless before the manifestation of what they
believed was a supernatural force, for they look upon these columns as
the evil genii of the plains. Men and camels fell to the ground. Horses
neighed in fear, and galloped madly to and fro. But the hot breath of
the "poison-wind" was upon them in a moment, shrieking like a fiend
among the crisping acacias. The sand-storm then fell in all its fury,
half smothering the poor wretches, who strove to cover their heads with
their garments to keep out the burning, blistering, pitiless dust.

Fortunately all was over in a moment, and the tempest went swirling on
its way northward, leaving a clear sky and a dust-buried country in its
wake.

In the confusion the dervish had escaped to the other end of the
caravan, and was forgotten.

At the end of the tenth day after leaving Medina the caravan reached
the head of the long, narrow defile in which lies the city of Mecca,