f any other shoots, the same will happen of itself.
Be warned unless you thirst for the Paradise of the Prophet."

"Sakr-el-Bahr!" cried Asad, and from its erstwhile anger his voice
had now changed to a note of intercession. He stretched out his arms
appealingly to the captain whose doom he had already pronounced in his
heart and mind. "Sakr-el-Bahr, I conjure thee by the bread and salt we
have eaten together, return to thy senses, my son."

"I am in my sense," was the answer, "and being so I have no mind for the
fate reserved me in Algiers--by the memory of that same bread and salt.
I have no mind to go back with thee to be hanged or sent to toil at an
oar again."

"And if I swear to thee that naught of this shall come to pass?"

"Thou'lt be forsworn. I would not trust thee now, Asad. For thou art
proven a fool, and in all my life I never found good in a fool and never
trusted one--save once, and he betrayed me. Yesterday I pleaded
with thee, showing thee the wise course, and affording thee thine
opportunity. At a slight sacrifice thou mightest have had me and hanged
me at thy leisure. 'Twas my own life I offered thee, and for all that
thou knewest it, yet thou knewest not that I knew." He laughed. "See now
what manner of fool art thou? Thy greed hath wrought thy ruin. Thy hands
were opened to grasp more than they could hold. See now the consequence.
It comes yonder in that slowly but surely approaching galleon."

Every word of it sank into the brain of Asad thus tardily to enlighten
him. He wrung his hands in his blended fury and despair. The crew stood
in appalled silence, daring to make no movement that might precipitate
their end.

"Name thine own price," cried the Basha at length, "and I swear to thee
by the beard of the Prophet it shall be paid thee."

"I named it yesterday, but it was refused. I offered thee my liberty and
my life if that were needed to gain the liberty of another."

Had he looked behind him he might have seen the sudden lighting of
Rosamund's eyes, the sudden clutch at her bosom, which would have
announced to him that his utterances were none so cryptic but that she
had understood them.

"I will make thee rich and honoured, Sakr-el-Bahr," Asad continued
urgently. "Thou shalt be as mine own son. The Bashalik itself shall
be thine when I lay it down, and all men shall do thee honour in the
meanwhile as to myself."

"I am not to be bought, O mighty Asad. I never was. Already wert
thou