She was very much annoyed therefore to discover that this man in the prominently large turban had evidently refused to take Musty's word for it and meant to talk the matter over with her in person. It would seem so. His black horse--Verbie could see it was no dog--was doing about 1,59-1/2 in her direction. There might be a whole lot that Verbeena did not know about the other sex. But she was fully cognizant what Arabic bargaining meant. Starting to dicker at one in the afternoon of a perfect day in June one continued to the following Shrove Tuesday. They always had as much to say about a shilling purchase as Joseph Conrad did about Lord Jim. We who have witnessed the scene of tragic treachery against her on the part of Musty Ale in conspiracy with the hard rider now abaft the oasis in the rapidly diminishing offing, must tremble now for Verbeena Mayonnaise. Although even we cannot as yet suspect the half of what is coming to her. And of all persons Verbeena! So unprepared, untrained and sure to be boyishly baffled at finding herself the object and victim of a large consignment of fiery, wild, untamed, hectic and rrrrrrred-hot desert passion now being swiftly shipped to her on horseback. The sun was beating relentlessly on the roof of Verbeena's white helmet and she did not propose to wait and let this big goof attempt to sell her any fake rugs, bangles, beads or poor caravan accommodations. She gave the spurs, therefore, right heartily to her beloved steed and he proceeded to cut down a large section of the Sahara ahead. Let Musty and his gang follow. Unquestionably this person on his way toward her would have sufficient Oriental subtlety to take the hint. He would doubtless rein up his horse and save oats. But--there was a loud crack of a whip behind her. Verbeena was very much astonished when her noble Berb, Al Dobbin, stopped nearly dead in his tracks, stood up on his hind legs and did some waltz steps. During the whirl she noticed that the big white chap was still coming toward her. She gave Al Dobbin the spurs again and once more he moved into a fast gallop over the dunes. Again the whip cracked behind her! And again! (Two cracks.) Al Dobbin stood on his hind legs neatly and pawed gracefully. Plainly he was bidding for a lump of sugar. And all she could possibly have offered him was a cigarette! Once more Verbeena spurred him to a start. "A blooming circus creature," she gasped, "and in pursuit must be his trainer. And where the deuce is Musty? He must have stolen this fancy ballet horse from the husky white ulster now so rapidly approaching! The rotter! I suspected Musty from the first but didn't care to mention it to Tawdry. Wisht I had! Still, when one adventures, why----" Crack! Crack! Crack! (Three cracks.) Immediately Al Dobbin knelt to pray. Verbeena, not knowing the signals, smacked her helmet hard against the desert of Sahara, matted her curls and stretched motionless, a lighted cigarette in her hand.