aring gravely at his
mules, which were browsing the coarse grass. From time to time he
pushed his turban back to scratch his head with a perplexed expression.

"Allah is merciful!" he exclaimed at sight of his friend. "The Emir
still lags a-bed. He will not hear me, though three times I have
coughed from soft to loud in his presence, and knocked the chair
against the table with progressive noise. His sleep seems troubled,
for I hear him utter unknown words. God grant that he may awake
refreshed and free from madness!"

Iskender advanced on tip-toe to the tent and entered its deep shadow.
The Emir turned on the small camp-bed and spoke his name
affectionately. With a bursting heart Iskender flung himself upon the
ground, confessing all things, asking pardon for his crimes. It was
long ere he realised that his beloved was not present, that what had
greeted him so friendly was the demon of delirium. His very marrow
froze on the discovery.

Then, in that moment of his greatest need, his thoughts flew straight
to his old foes, the missionaries. Though harsh and arrogant in times
of health, they had not their like in the land for kindness when a man
was ill. He told Mahmud to take the horse of the Emir and ride for his
life to the Mission.

Having seen the messenger depart he went back into the tent, and sat
down on the ground beside the sick-bed. He sullied his face with
earth, and moaned to Allah. When some fellahin from the village near
at hand became spectators of his grief, he asked them to provide fresh
milk, a lot of it, having heard that milk was salutary in the treatment
of a feverish illness. The milk was brought to him, with scorn of
payment. He gave a cupful to the Emir, and repeated the dose at
intervals thereafter, with ceaseless prayers to Allah for his lord's
recovery.

It was the third hour after noon when he heard foreign voices and the
tramp of several beasts before the tent. The priest of the Mission
entered gravely with the Sitt Carulin. The Sitt Hilda followed,
looking fresh and tempting despite the sorrow painted on her face.
Iskender sprang to greet them, giving praise to Allah; at such a time
he had no thought of bygones; but the ladies turned from him in
disgust; the Father of Ice bade him begone and hide his infamy. Going
out in obedience to that harsh command he found a litter with two mules
waiting in charge of Mahmud, in addition to the thoroughbred horse of
the missionary