Khasim Jelalodeen was filled with grief and consternation. Oh for Jinn or Efrits, the spirits born of fire, to aid him! He had his fleet horse corned, refreshed by a bitter draught of _bouza_ (not water), saddled, and in constant readiness for any emergency; and in the night, well armed, with his heart on fire and his brain in a whirl, he made his way secretly and softly to that part of the zereba in which the _Kah'ah_, or women's apartments, were situated--an act involving his death if caught, and caught he was by the guards of Moussa, who were about to slay him on the spot; but immemorial usage has established a custom in the Desert that if a person who is in actual danger from another can in anticipation claim his protection, or touch him barehanded, his life is saved. He passed himself as a _Karami_, or mere robber, and as such was made a close prisoner, destined to await the pleasure of Moussa, who had just then a good deal to occupy his mind. Meanwhile Emineh, having ascertained exactly where her rash, bold brother was in durance, contrived to introduce herself there next night with a ball of thread, and tying an end thereof to his right wrist she withdrew, winding it carefully off as she went, till she penetrated to the sleeping apartment of Moussa, and applying the other end to his bosom woke him, saying in Arab fashion: 'Look on me, by the love thou bearest to God and thy own self, for _this_ is under thy protection!' Then the startled and angry Sheikh arose, took his sword, and followed the clue till it guided him to where Khasim, the supposed _Karami_, was confined, and he was compelled to declare himself the protector of the latter. His bonds were taken off; the thongs with which his hair, in token of degradation, had been tied were cut with a knife; he was entertained as a newly-arrived guest, and was then set at liberty. Emineh gave him his horse and arms, and he took his departure from the vicinity of the zereba, but only to watch in the distance. 'In due time the caravan of Ebn al Ajuz came forth from the gates and boundaries of thorny hedge, and the lynx-eyed Arab, Khasim, with his heart beating high, watched it from the concealment of a mimosa thicket, and knew the curtained camel litter which contained the object of his adoration, as the flinty-hearted Moussa was seen to ride beside it for a time. The love of Khasim was not that of the educated, the cultivated, as it is understood in other parts of the world--the cultivated in music, art, and literature--but of its kind it was a pure, ardent, and passionate one, and in its fiery nature unknown to 'the cold in clime and cold in blood.'