Then the air grew cold. The darkest hour before the dawn approached, and the narrow moon served only to make the earth invisible. The dread of meeting any one had long ago left Kanana's mind. First he had feared it. Then he had longed for it. Now he was totally indifferent. He looked at the sky above him to keep his course. He looked at the sand beneath his feet; but he did not once search the desert before him. Suddenly he was roused from his lethargy. There were shadows just ahead. He paused, shaded his eyes from the sky and looked forward, long and earnestly. "It is not sand-shrubs," he muttered. "It is too high. It is not Bashra. It is too low. It is not a caravan. It does not move. It has no beginning and no end," he added, as he looked to right and left. "It is tents," he said a moment later, and a frown of anxiety gathered over his forehead. "Have I missed the way? No tribe so large as that would be tented near Bashra. If I turn back I shall die. If I go on--_La Illaha il Allah!_" he murmured, and resolutely advanced. As he drew nearer, the indistinguishable noises of the night in a vast encampment became plainly audible, but he did not hesitate. Following the Arab custom for every stranger in approaching a Bedouin camp, he paused at the first tent he reached, and standing before the open front repeated the Mussulman salutation. Some one within roused quickly, and out of the darkness a deep voice sounded in reply. Then Kanana repeated: "I am a wanderer upon the desert. I am far from my people." And the voice replied: "If you can lift the lance for Allah and Arabia, you are welcome in the camp of Kahled the Invincible." "_La Illaha il Allah!_" cried Kanana. "Guide me quickly to the tent of Kahled. I am a messenger to him from the great Caliph Omar." The earth reeled beneath the feet of Kanana as the soldier led the way. The general was roused without the formality of modern military tactics or even Mohammedan courtesies. A torch was quickly lighted. Kanana prostrated himself; then rising, he handed the precious packet to the greatest general who ever led the hosts of Mohammed. Kahled the Invincible broke the seal, but before he had read a single word, the Bedouin boy fell unconscious upon the carpet of the tent. As the soldiers lifted him, Kanana roused for an instant and murmured: "By the dry well, one night to the southwest, my black dromedary is dying of thirst. In Allah's name, send him water! He brought the message from Mecca in thirteen days!" Then the torch-light faded before his eyes, and Kanana's lips were sealed in unconsciousness. X KANANA'S THIRD MISSION A vast Mohammedan army, with its almost innumerable followers, was marching towards Syria, to meet the hosts of the Emperor Heraclius. Like a pillar of cloud the dust rose above the mighty throng. Armed horsemen, ten thousand strong, rode in advance.