Immediately a huge black man, dressed in gaudy, barbaric clothes, his head turbaned, his feet bare, appeared from somewhere and bowed low before the Englishman. “Bring hookahs for my visitors,” said Coddington, “and bid my dancing girls appear and dance for me.” The black man bowed sweepingly again, and hastily disappeared. Almost immediately two boys, clothed in purple, entered, bearing hookahs, which they placed before the professor and the colonel. When the visitors were ready to smoke, the boys lighted the hookahs. “He! he!” laughed Zenas, as he puffed away. “Makes one feel decidedly kinky and chipper. I’m not much of a smoker, but I—ough! ugah! ugah! agoo-ugah!—hah! Whew!” He had taken some of the smoke into his lungs, and it nearly strangled him. He continued to cough for some time, but suddenly stopped and rubbed the water from his eyes. Out upon the tiled floor before them glided a number of graceful figures, girls in diaphanous draperies, which fluttered in the air, light as azure. These girls were swaying, bending, dancing, their arms waving in the air, their feet moving swiftly to the sound of tiny, tinkling bells and the throb of a strange, unnatural music. The music was produced by a number of musicians who mysteriously appeared, seated on the floor at one side. The faces of the girls were hidden by veils, which were bound down lightly, to keep them from fluttering aside with their swaying movements and exposing their features. Zenas gazed and gasped. “Great Cæsar!” he muttered. “This being the proprietor of a harem is great!” The girls continued their dance, and to the old pedagogue every movement was full of poetry. They advanced, retreated, pirouetted, their arms waving from side to side above their heads, their heads swaying, their garments fluttering, their veils hiding their features, yet seeming to show glimpses of dark, flashing eyes beyond. The professor forgot to smoke; he forgot to breathe; he forgot to do anything but stare. How long the dance continued, he was unable to say, but finally Coddington clapped his hands, and away glided the girls, as graceful as phantoms, and like phantoms they vanished. The musicians vanished in the same silent manner. A great sigh of regret came from Gunn. “Well, professor,” said Coddington, “how did that hit you?” “Great!” was the enthusiastic answer. “How often do they perform?” “Whenever I bid them. I keep them to amuse me.” “Shade of Absalom! If I owned this harem, I’d tire them out dancing. What’s next on the program?” “I will call in some of my wives.” “Were there any in that bevy?” “Oh, no; those are nothing but dancing girls. The ladies of the harem are more select and beautiful.” “Call them! You can’t hurry them too much to suit me.”