Sherif el Habib offered to pay for the animal, but no amount of beads or rings, shells or jewelry, would purchase a sacred bull. Max must die. Ibrahim asked how Max had killed the bull. The natives said he had speared him. “Where is my spear?” asked Max. They pointed to his gun. He raised it and showed that it was no spear at all. The bull was dead. That did not admit of any doubt. But how did it die? Klatch was so curious that he told Max he might kill a cow, if he could do so without a spear. Max had a repeating gun, an old-fashioned one, but still better than an old musket. He singled out a cow, raised his gun to his shoulder, the natives watching him. There was a puff of smoke, a flash, a loud report, and the cow dropped dead. It was a miracle. “Another!” cried Klatch, and Max, who anticipated some good beefsteaks as his reward, picked off a bull who was looking at him very steadily. As a reward for these miracles Max was given the first bull, and the other dead animals were divided among the natives. After two days rest the caravan resumed its journey, Klatch and the entire tribe pleading hard to go with Sherif. When the caravan rested after the next day’s journey, Sherif found the chief’s daughter sleeping by his tent. She had followed in the distance and under cover of the night reached the pasha’s tent. Sherif ordered her back, but she refused to return, and he threatened to use force to compel her. She explained that according to the custom of her people she would be killed. If a girl was sold to a man, and he repented of his bargain, the girl must die. “But I sold you back again,” said Sherif. The girl wept as bitterly as ever did white woman, but Sherif was obdurate, and when she did return it was easy to see that she expected she was going to her death. Whether she was killed or allowed to live, our party of pilgrims never discovered. CHAPTER XII. “WHAT SAYS GIRZILLA?” “I would like to know where that river empties itself,” said Max. “We will follow its course, if you like,” answered Sherif el Habib, good-naturedly. “That will suit me,” assented Ibrahim. “What says Girzilla?” Girzilla had become a most important factor to consider. She had conversed with the Persian shawl manufacturer, and had told him she believed that Mameluke blood ran in her veins. This set Sherif thinking. The Mamelukes were originally slaves, brought from the Caucasus. When Selim the First overthrew the Mameluke kingdom in 1517, he was compelled to allow twenty-four of their number to remain governors of provinces. Ten of these beys were Arabians, and rumor declared that at least three of them were descended from the Prophet Mahomet. To find the last of the Mamelukes was an important step, for he would have the record of his race, and might direct the pilgrims to the mahdi, who was shortly expected.