“Destroy the infidel who has defiled the holy temple of the Prophet!” snarled one of the infuriated Mohammedans. “By the grave of my father,” cried the sheik, “I swear to slay the first who tries to touch her!” They were astounded, and as he swept his sword with a hissing sound beneath their noses they involuntarily fell back. One of the priests called to the sheik, demanding to know why he defended the infidels. The aged Arab retorted that he had a most excellent reason, and that he would lay down his life rather than see either the girl or boy harmed. He did more than that, for he called several of the mob by name, commanding them to move on and give the strangers permission to depart in peace. One of the priests attempted to expostulate, explaining that the girl had entered the temple, thus committing an offense that could be atoned for by blood alone. Then Ras al Had retorted that the girl had been alarmed by the camels of his train and had fled into the temple to escape from them. He further added that infidels were sometimes permitted to visit the temple, escorted by a military guard. In conclusion he stated that he was indebted for his very life to the boy who stood ready to defend the maiden, and, therefore, he was willing to surrender his life in behalf of the lad. They realized that he was in earnest, and those whom he had called by name and ordered to depart began to slip away. He then singled out three or four of his own camel drivers, who had dropped back to see what all the uproar was about, and called them to his side. “Boy,” he said, addressing Dick, “I will see that no harm comes to you or to the girl. Trust me.” “Thank you,” said Dick gratefully. “I think you took a hand just in time to prevent those wolves from tearing us to pieces.” “Without doubt you would have met serious injury at their hands. These men are my paid servants. We will escort you and protect you. Fear not.” The camel drivers gathered about Dick and Nadia. Ras al Had placed himself at their head and ordered them to march. Flinging his hands in the air, one of the priests stood firmly in the path, refusing to move. The eyes of Ras al Had shone strangely. He stepped close to the priest, called him by name, and spoke in a low tone. “It was thy brother whom I delivered from slavery in Nubia,” he said. “Then thou didst fall on my neck and weep and swear by the Prophet that whatever I should ask of thee at any time thou wouldst grant. Hast forgotten?” “It is true, noble sheik,” confessed the priest; “but tell me hast thou forgotten thy religion that thou canst defend an infidel who has defiled the temple of Mohammed?” “Ras al Had never forgets. These infidels are mighty and powerful, and should harm come to them through thee, then thou wilt be forced to make reparation in the dust. For thy own good, stand aside and let them pass.”