Haggard and worn Kanana stood before him. For fifty hours he had lain bound, in a cave at the foot of the cliff, without a drop of water or a morsel of food. "I am about to torture thee," said the prince. "Thou hast wronged me more than thy sufferings can atone, but I shall make them as bitter as I can. Hast thou anything to say before the work begins?" Kanana thought for a moment, then, hesitating as though still doubtful, he replied: "When the tempest rages on the desert, doth not the camel lay him down, and the young camel say to the drifting sand, 'Cover me; kill me, I am helpless'? But among the captives taken by the prince, I saw an old man pass my cave. He is full of years, and for him I would part my lips. I hear that the prince will have the prisoners slain, but it is not the custom of my people to make the women, the old men, and the children suffer with the rest. May it please the prince to double every torture he has prepared for me, and in exchange to set that old man free?" "Who is he?" asked the prince. "The one with a long white beard. There are not two," replied Kanana. "And what is he to you?" Kanana hesitated. "He shall die unless you tell me," said the prince, and Kanana's cold lips trembled as he whispered: "He is my father." "'Tis well," said Manuel. "Let him be brought." The old man entered, but paused at the opposite side of the tent, looking reproachfully at his son. He had heard from the other captives how they had discovered Kanana, a deserter in the hour of danger, living in the tents of the enemy. Even he had believed the tale, and he was enough of a patriot to be glad that they betrayed his son. "Is this thy father?" asked the prince. "He does not look it in his eyes." Kanana simply bowed his head. That look was piercing his heart far deeper than the threats of torture; but Manuel continued: