That first visit was a solemn one, for it was to the tent where they were met by the mother of the little child, who led them to where her little sufferer lay in its last sleep. She reverently pressed the Hakim's extended hand to her forehead, her tear-filled eyes and trembling lips seeming to say that she accepted patiently the blow which had fallen during the night, and that the Great Physician was very wise. Frank Frere felt more at his ease by the time the next tent was reached, and perfectly satisfied when all was done. For he had played his part of slave and assistant easily and well, holding water vessels, passing bandage and lint, and standing by the sufferers while the Hakim tended his patients with the greatest care. For there was no wondering gaze. It seemed quite natural and right to the sufferers, who were all doing well. The change in the dress of the Hakim and his friends was only what might have been expected now that their journey there was over, while Frank, the black slave, had the satisfaction of feeling that he was not even recognised by those he tended. He was the Hakim's dumb, black slave. The white assistant who had helped the doctor the previous day was not present--that was all. A couple of hours were taken up over the invalids, and they were left out of pain and comforted by the Hakim's gentle hand, while when their own tent was reached the Hakim was able to say that nothing could be better than the state of his patients. With a couple more days' attention they might be left to nature, and would soon be well. That afternoon Sam set aside his English clothes and blossomed forth into a showy-looking Arab, evidently feeling rather proud of his dress, the most conspicuous part of which was a scarlet scarf broadly spread around his waist, one which in an ordinary way would have been pretty well hidden by the loose outer cotton robe, but which the man took ample care should not have its brilliant tint eclipsed more than he could help. Naturally enough he sought the first opportunity he could find of getting Frank alone in the tent, and began at once in rather a conscious way. "Beg pardon, sir," he said. "I mean, Ben Eddin. May I say Ben for short?" There was a short nod, and the man continued-- "I say, sir--Ben. It's very awkward, but the professor says I'm to treat you as if you're my fellow servant. You won't like that?" There was a quick, eager nod. "Well, I sha'n't, Mr Ben. I can't help it, but it makes me feel ashamed like, and as if I'd lost all respect for my master's young friend." Frank held out his hand with a smile, and kept it extended till, in a slow, hesitating way and with a peculiar grimace, Sam took it, and felt it held in a firm, manly, friendly grip. "Oh, well, Mr Ben, if it's to be like that I can't help it; but please recollect that however disrespectful I seem through this business my 'eart's in its right place, and I think just the same of you as ever I did."