morning comes and
finds him undisturbed.

When he descends from his room he has a vague hope that some word may
have come from Ben Taleb.

In this respect he is doomed to disappointment, for there is no letter.
So another day of waiting begins. The doctor is determined by nature,
and has made up his mind that he will not give up his mission until he
has accomplished that which he set out to perform, no matter if he
spends weeks in the African city at the foot of the hills known as
Sahel.

The others join him by degrees.

Such charming weather; a dozen trips for the day are proposed and
rejected. All conclude to wait until after breakfast, when they will be
in a condition to discuss the matter and decide just what is best to be
done.

John is ready to join them and see the sights, for there is a chance
that he may in this way run across the one he seeks, if she be moving
about the city on errands of mercy, as becomes her order.

Besides, he places considerable dependence upon the promise of the old
Moor.

So he enters into the discussion with assumed vigor, being magnetized
now by the blue eyes of Lady Ruth.

They ask the advice of Mustapha Cadi, and he promises to show them many
queer sights before the sun sinks behind the hills and the boom of the
gun in the fortress announces the close of another day.

Thus, all of them prepare for a day's outing, and Lady Ruth looks quite
charming in her jaunty costume, especially suited for such business.

John no longer remembers the dazzling beauty of the Moorish girl who
sat at the feet of old Ben Taleb on the preceding night; it could not
compare with the vivacious intelligence of an educated girl coming from
the countries beyond the seas.

First of all they mount the terraces of Mustapha Superieur and enjoy
the magnificent view of the city and harbor. Many modern yachts lie
upon the blue waters, side by side with strange vessels peculiar to the
Mediterranean, while the incoming steamer from Oran is just entering the
harbor.

Upon this ridge above the city lie numerous palatial residences now
occupied by French and English families, but which were once owned by
the pirate kings of Algiers, whose names may often be found upon the
gate post, cut in letters of gold.

From this eyrie they scanned the sea with their glasses, and the
appearance of a sail in the dim distance would be the signal for a mad
chase to see which piratical felucca could first overhaul the st