Shems-ud-dìn smiled at the description; and their talk continued in a pleasant strain till, having crossed a dry torrent bed in the wady, they began to ascend. They had lost sight of the city all save the walls, which ran along the top of the rocks above them. Shems-ud-dìn’s face fell sad once more, as he mused upon the mystery of fate, and the uncertainty of what awaited him up there within. Lepers and other beggars, seated beside the broad, made road, howled to them for alms. Men with donkeys and mules and camels passed up and down before them. The toll of a mighty bell echoed among the stony hills—the bell of the Resurrection, explained Zeyd ebn Abbâs, calling the Nazarenes to prayer. Everything announced their approach to a great city such as few of them had seen in all their lives. Shibli’s excitement knew no bounds. He kept galloping on in front and returning to tell what he had seen, asking answerless questions, laughing and shouting like one possessed. “Stop! Stop, I say! Are you deaf, all of you? What do you, wearing arms, so great a company? Show your teskerehs before I let you pass.” A soldier stood out before them in the gate of the city, while two more issued yawning from the guardhouse. Shems-ud-dìn proffered his teskereh, but the sentry scouted it. “That allows you to travel; good. By what authority do you travel armed like soldiers?” “Look hither. Canst read?” said Hassan loftily; and he held out a copy of that old firmàn naming him Guardian of the Frontier, which he was in the habit of carrying about to confute the skeptical. “What is this?” “Canst thou not see? It bears the Tûghra, the handmark of Power.” “Is it some antique?” “Dog! Dost scoff at the hand of the Padishah? Let pass, or thy punishment shall be horrible. Know that we have with us a greater man than thou ever sawest in all thy life of sin——” “Is it this man?” broke in the soldier impudently, pointing with his finger at Zeyd, the son of Abbâs, who, on his miserable donkey, in his ragged clothing, cut the sorriest figure imaginable. “Pig!” snarled Hassan. “I will ride thee down!” “Have the kindness only, and thy punishment is sure. Once in there, thou and thy friends are caught in a box.” “Deign but to listen. Knowest thou one Abd-ur-Rahman Bey, a yezbashi of the garrison?” “Of course. What is that to thee?” “I will tell thee. This holy sheykh beside me is his father. Now let pass.” “Gently, gently, O my uncle. That is good, what thou sayest—excellent—I ask no better. Only—I do not believe it. He of whom thou speakest is a great one. Everything is known about him; yet I never heard that he owned a father living, much less do I look to see his father riding up from nowhere in the midst of a crew of rascals without proper teskerehs—Ma sh’ Allah!” The final exclamation was uttered in a frightened whisper. The speaker stood back hastily with his comrades, sprang to attention, and presented arms.