Shems-ud-dìn was near weeping. He could not believe that it was indeed he who had shown such presence of mind. He felt weak now, and dizzy, incapable of any action whatsoever. By this time the crowd of townsmen had come up. Alarmed by what had happened, they stood silent by until the Bey remounted, when another rush befell, another struggle. “A boon, O our lord!”—“A boon!”—“Hear him!”—“Hear him not!” came the conflicting shouts. There seemed every prospect of a bloody fight under the very nose of the Sultàn’s appointed peacemaker. At a word from Milhem, the soldiers surrounded both factions. “Where is the sheykh of the place?” shouted the great man furiously. A tall old man stepped forward, making reverence. “Where the chief of the colonists?” “I am he!” bawled the prisoner insolently, from between the troopers guarding him. “My name is Hassan Agha, and the title Guardian of the Frontier was conferred upon me by express firmàn.” Milhem smiled. “Release his Excellency at once. Allah forgive the indignity offered to one so great and powerful. By the Korân, I took thee for a common murderer. Deign to come a little nearer! I would get down off my horse and offer him to your Highness were I less weary with traveling.” The man approached, shamefaced, while a titter spread among the crowd. “Stand on my right hand, O Great Guardian of the Frontier, and thou, O sheykh, on my left.... Praise be to God!” he cried suddenly. “His Grace, Hassan Agha, Guardian of the Frontier, deigns to stand beside my horse. O honor!” A roar of laughter went up from crowd and soldiery. “Show a little mercy, O my lord!” whispered Hassan wretchedly. “Am I not shamed enough?” Milhem did not answer. With the heads of both factions as it were at his saddlebow, he made haste to inform himself of the grounds of dispute between them. On the one hand, he learned how the Circassians would pay for nothing, how they were a turbulent crew, the worst of neighbors, and had even shown disrespect to some women belonging to the old inhabitants; on the other hand, how the Arabs were a set of churls, fathers of avarice, without one generous thought in their black hearts. Shems-ud-dìn, hearing the vigor of those mutual denunciations, judged the case hopeless of settlement without bloodshed. He was amazed to hear Milhem chuckle. “It is my intention, and the will of the Sultàn is with me in the matter,” said the Governor pleasantly, “to live throughout my stay here at the expense of the lord of this place, be he Circassian or the son of an Arab; to reward his loyalty, and that he may boast to his children’s children of how he entertained the Viceroy. Now unto the house of which of you two shall I repair?” The rivals stooped down and exchanged glances under the horse’s belly. “He is the sheykh of the town,” said Hassan. “And I have no house of my own.”