"Tell this man," said the painter, "that if I have not a camel, I have, at all events, a horse." The interpreter, in astonishment, looked at his master without understanding in the least what he meant. "Don't you see that horse there, by the ruins ready saddled and bridled?" "But it does not belong to us; it is this man's property." "Quite so, and I am going to take it from him." "Take a horse from an Arab? Don't you believe it, sir! You may take his wife or his children, but his horse, never!" "Ask him for how much he will sell it to me." "It is a very handsome, well-bred horse, and he would not part with it at any price." "Never mind! Ask him." As Ali had foreseen, the Bedouin declined to deprive himself of his steed. "Then," said M. de Morin to the interpreter, "I order you to translate to him exactly what I am going to say, word for word, and at the same time with me." "I will obey you." The Frenchman, calm and self-possessed, but very determined, approached the Bedouin, who, resting on his lance, remained motionless. "Your friends," said he, "have carried off one of my servants. It is my duty to go to his assistance and rescue him. You decline to sell me your horse, which is indispensable to me, and consequently I am going to take it. If we are not killed, I swear to restore it to you. But, if you stir a finger, or make any attempt whatever to hinder my departure, I swear I'll shoot you dead. Here is my weapon, and I am not joking." He drew out of its case, slung from his shoulder-belt, a six-chambered revolver, of large bore, and ready loaded. The Bedouin changed colour, but did not answer a word. "Go and bring me the horse," said M. de Morin to the interpreter. The order was given in so peremptory a tone that Ali had nothing to do but obey. M. de Morin, revolver in hand, at a couple of paces from the Bedouin, held him in check. Ali returned with the horse on which, without taking his eyes for an instant from the Arab, M. de Morin leaped at a single bound. There was nothing now, indeed, to be feared from the stranger, who understood from M. de Morin's words and looks that he was face to face with a man against whom it would be more than useless to struggle. He made a virtue, therefore, of necessity, and bowed before the superior force of his adversary, as all these semi-barbarians, harsh and cruel to the weak, but yielding and cowardly before the strong, know so well how to do. In readiness, now, for a start, M. de Morin issued his final orders. "You will go," said he to Ali, "to my friends in Djiddah, at once. You will tell them that I could not abandon to his fate a European who had left France with me. My protection is just as much due to him as his services are to me. My friends will understand me, for they would have done the same in my place. Ask them to consult amongst themselves without the loss of a moment, and to come to our rescue, in their turn, if they deem it necessary."