"Forgive me," said Frank quickly. "I feel now that my suspicions were unworthy." "Only natural, Frank," said the professor quietly. "You do not know Ibrahim and his people as I do." "That is my misfortune," said the young man, smiling. "I am going to know them as well." That evening Sam came to the Hakim's tent to ask if he could do anything for his master. He found him sitting at the tent door talking with Frank and the professor, and the three exchanged glances. "Well, no, Samuel," said the Hakim quietly. "You are tired out with your long ride." "Yes, sir; I ache all over, and my hands are quite shaky." "I shall want nothing more. Go and rest yourself, and go to your bed in good time, so as to get a long night's rest." "Thankye, sir; I'm much obliged, sir. I think that is about what I want to set me right." Sam went back to the little tent set apart for him, and lost no time in throwing himself down upon a rug, to lie listening to the bleating of the sheep and goats, mingled with which came at times the moaning and complaining of the camels. As soon as his back was turned the doctor had laughed softly. "I meant to have set him to work to-night," he said, "over my head; but I don't think his touch would have been very light after his last night's work." "Oh, no," said the professor; "besides, you ought to have daylight for that job. Between ourselves, I shall not be sorry to take to the native dress again. It is much more suitable for the climate than ours. I have used it in a modified form ever since I first came out. The sooner we begin the better." The conversation then turned upon the doctor's patients. "So you found them patient patients," said the professor, smiling. "Poor creatures, yes. They seem to have the most unbounded faith in me." "Of course," said the professor; "and a fine thing for them that they have, Robert my son." "Yes, Fred, old fellow, I suppose it is, for it means quick recovery. I always like to have to do with a patient who looks relieved as soon as I come into the room. He little knows how he is helping me towards his cure." "Poor fellow! he doesn't think, then, of what is to come?" "His sufferings?" said the doctor. "No, only about how I may be able to relieve them." "Didn't mean that, old fellow," said the professor. "I meant his mental sufferings over the fees; eh, Frank?" "Don't try to joke, Fred," said the doctor; "this place makes me feel solemn--the gentle calm of the oasis, the trickling of the water in this thirsty land, and the simple, patriarchal life of the people." "Ha, ha!" laughed the professor softly; "hear this Frank?" "Hear what?" said the young man, in a tone or voice which suggested that the calm of the desert was influencing him too. "Bob Morris talking as if it wouldn't take much to make him give up civilisation and take to a nomad life."