I hesitated and looked down, which made him inquire of Moses if I was sorry, at which I looked him kindly in the face as Moses interpreted each word, and said that I was sorry to go home and tell my people that the Sheik of Koofa had sent me away in the desert in the dark. Now he called the guard again, and after another continued whispering decided we could stay in the room over night, but must be prepared to leave at sunrise in the morning. As I left the room I felt his powerful influence on me, and turning quickly, I again met that kindly gaze as the old chief raised his thin, bloodless hand adieu. That night in my prayers I thanked God that the magnanimity of Abraham still tinged the veins of his people, even though they were deprived of the world's bounties through non-progressive bigotry. Soon I was peacefully resting in the unventilated room, which my friends on the other side of the world would have spurned, but to me it was experience, and I was glad to know that pity, love and sympathy were not confined to any one people, but were God-given attributes to humanity. My sweet dreams, if such they were, were cut short by Shammo, who began frying camel steak, goat or some other kind of meat close by my head, and soon we learned that the Sheik had ordered his special body guard to take us to Me-Schwad, Arabia, which was about twenty-five mile southwest from Koofa, over the trackless desert. [Illustration: DESERT LIFE AMONG THE ARABS.] WILD, YET BEAUTIFUL At sunrise, leaving Shammo to care for the luggage, we mounted spirited horses selected for us, and with an escort of about one hundred cavalry picked our way, Indian file, up through the lane-like streets of Koofa until we reached the summit, from which we had a view of the surrounding country, especially ancient Nazzip, now called both Nazzip and Me-Schwab, which lay on a rise of ground before us, just far enough away to conceal its grossness. The morning sun at our backs cast its golden rays across the desert wild interspersed with clumps of verdure green. Over and beyond lay, face to us, the silver side-hill city of Nazzip, like the Arab himself, whose ambition is an array of dashing splendor. The Mohammedan pride appeared decorated with polished steeples and spires coated with sheets of silver and polished bronze, while the great Allah temple sat as a center piece. As we neared the scene it became grotesque, but in the far away it looked like a dazzling gem, set in soft Oriental drapery. A thoughtless vision seemed to confuse me with the scene as I said to myself, "Oh, if my Chicago friends were here to enjoy this enthusiasm."