Some days later Hamid was kneeling in the "_majlis_" balcony and peeping out through the carved wooden lattice which enclosed the balcony on the street side, while Fatimah stood behind him looking over his shoulder. Suddenly Rashid put his head in at the door and exclaimed: "I have been looking everywhere for thee." "Just come and look out on the square, Rashid; it is full of people and camels and horses, and tents are being put up all over it," called out Hamid. "It is the big caravan that comes from Damascus. They are the pilgrims on their way to the Holy City," said Rashid, joining them on the balcony. "I was looking everywhere for thee to tell thee of it. Father says there are many thousands of the pilgrims." Such a bustle and scurrying about and noise as there was in the big square. Tents were being put up like magic, camels were being unloaded, and horses and donkeys and dromedaries were stamping around, and little children were tearing about everywhere and getting in the way,--for many of the pilgrims take their families with them. "There are the tents of the Pacha, the chief of the caravan," said Rashid, pointing to the big green tents with gold crescents on their tops. The Pacha's tents occupied the chief place right in the middle of the square. "The Pacha rides in a splendid litter swung between two beautiful horses, and those must be his dromedaries yonder with the rich trappings," said Rashid, who could explain all this to his little companions, because each year he had seen the caravan arrive and depart, always with the same magnificence and splendour. It is the religious duty of all good Mohammedans, as the followers of the Great Prophet are called, to make at least one pilgrimage to Mecca, the capital city of Arabia, called the "Holy City." [Illustration: THE CARAVAN ON THE ROAD TO MECCA.] For this reason every year great caravans from far and near journey across Arabia carrying thousands of pilgrims to Mecca. "See! see! I do believe there is Nawara," cried Fatimah, "there, just by the big tent." "Yes, it is she," said Hamid, "and there is the old merchant, too." With one accord the three children ran down into the square, dodging under camels and around tents, until at last they got to where Nawara was standing. The little girl was so astonished to see her friends of the desert that for a moment she could say nothing. Then she threw her arms around Fatimah, crying out how glad she was to see her again. "But, Nawara, what are you doing here?" asked Fatimah. "Grandfather is going to make the pilgrimage to the Holy City, and we are going with the caravan because it is safer," said Nawara, in her little wise way. "Then, too, grandfather will be able to sell his wares to the pilgrims."