It was near the end of the third day that Max went forward to Mohammed and told him that a smoke was rising in the distance, and that it appeared like an encampment. Mohammed gave orders for two of his most trusty Arabs to ride forward and reconnoiter. It was so late before any sign of their return was obtained, that Mohammed gave them up for lost. When, however, a shout proclaimed that the messengers were safe, there was joy in the camp of the Arab chief. The messengers conveyed two letters, one addressed to the most worthy pasha and illustrious chief, Mohammed, and the other to the worthy Ibrahim. Both were signed by Sherif el Habib, and each contained the welcome news that Sherif and all the party were well. Ibrahim and Max were too impatient to await the morning, and after making Mohammed promise to start at sunrise they journeyed forth to meet their friends. Who can describe the meeting between uncle and nephew? and what pen can convey the faintest idea of the rapture felt and expressed by Girzilla and Ibrahim? When the excitement of the meeting had subsided, no one thought of returning to rest. True, all had been roused at midnight, but all were eager to learn of the adventures of the young explorers. Ibrahim, however, was anxious to find out how Girzilla’s belt had got into the possession of the cannibal, and she admitted that some time before she had lost it while out looking for the return of Ibrahim. “And didst thou look for my return?” he asked. “Daily I journeyed forth, and as the weeks passed Uncle Sherif believed that the grave held thee.” “And if it had?” “I should have found it if I could and laid down beside thee.” “Do you then love me so much, Girzilla?” She made no answer in words, but there was an eloquence in the glance from her dark eyes which told him all he wished to know. When, some hours later, Mohammed and his caravan arrived, there was a great commotion. Not a word had been said about Girzilla’s parentage, and Mohammed was shocked to see his daughter going about unveiled. He recognized her instantly. The likeness to his wife was so striking that doubt was an impossibility. Who can picture the happy scene when the mother once more folded her arms around the form of the daughter, only child of her heart and home? Explanations were made, and a happy family, long disunited, was once more complete. “I can share in your joy,” said Sherif, “for I love her as a daughter, and she will not leave me.” “Not leave? Hath the great and illustrious pasha taken her to wife?” “No, Mohammed, but I ask her for my nephew.” “She shall accept.” “If she desires.” “She must.” “No, no! let the young folks decide.” It so happened that those young folks were near enough to overhear the conversation, and Ibrahim stepped forward, a joyous smile on his face. “We have decided, uncle. Girzilla is mine.” “Blessings on you both. May Allah shower his great bounties on you!” exclaimed Mohammed, reverently.