“It is like leaving home again, Um Yusuf,” she said, with tears in her eyes. “I should like to stay here always.” Perhaps Um Yusuf, like Lady Haigh, detested sentiment. At any rate, she disliked the mountains very heartily, and she answered rather snappishly-- “You do no good here, mademoiselle. Once we leave this horrid place, you get plenty work to do, feel better.” Here the agas came and drew close the black curtains, and the mule started off, led by a stalwart villager, who had been impressed into the Pasha’s service, and whose guttural remarks to the animal were the chief sounds that reached the ears of the two captives during the next fortnight, after which he was allowed to return to his home as best he might. The journey, which was carried on under such uncomfortable conditions for Cecil and Um Yusuf, lasted in all sixteen days, during which time they never obtained an inkling of their destination, knowing only that their caravan was kept persistently on the march during the hours of daylight. At night a tent was pitched for them, in which they found their own mattresses and other baggage; and with respect to food, they fared as well as did their guards, who exacted from the peasantry in the Pasha’s name whatever they desired. They never halted at night until after the sun was set; and whenever in the early morning they succeeded, as they passed from the tent to the litter, in obtaining a glimpse of the surrounding scenery, it was always unfamiliar to both of them. When on the march, it was possible for them to tell whether the mule was going up or down hill, and also whether the road traversed was smooth or rough or slippery, but these changes were far too frequent and bewildering to be any guide as to the locality.