I had not yet opened my mouth. I then asked, If all these were janizaries; and where was their commanding officer? A well-looking, elderly man answered, “I am Sardar of the janizaries.”--“If you are Sardar, then,” said I, “this firman orders you to protect me. The Naybe is a man of this country, no member of the Ottoman empire.” Upon my first producing my firman to him, he threw it aside like waste-paper. The greatest Vizir in the Turkish dominions would have received it standing, bowed his head to the ground, then kissed it, and put it upon his forehead. A general murmur of approbation followed, and I continued,--“Now I must tell you my resolution is, never to go to Hamazen, or elsewhere, with Emir Achmet. Both he and the Naybe have shewed themselves my enemies; and, I believe, that to send me to Hamazen is to rob and murder me out of sight.”--“Dog of a Christian!” says Emir Achmet, putting his hand to his knife, “if the Naybe was to murder you, could he not do it here now this minute?”--“No,” says the man, who had called himself Sardar, “he could not; I would not suffer any such thing. Achmet is the stranger’s friend, and recommended me to-day to see no injury done him; he is ill, or would have been here himself.” “Achmet,” said I, “is my friend, and fears God; and were I not hindered by the Naybe from seeing him, his sickness before this would have been removed. I will go to Achmet at Arkeeko, but not to Hamazen, nor ever again to the Naybe here in Masuah. Whatever happens to me must befal me in my own house. Consider what a figure a few naked men will make the day that my countrymen ask the reason of this either here or in Arabia.” I then turned my back, and went out without ceremony. “A brave man!” I heard a voice say behind me, “_Wallah Englese!_ True English, by G--d!” I went away exceedingly disturbed, as it was plain my affairs were coming to a crisis for good or for evil. I observed, or thought I observed, all the people shun me. I was, indeed, upon my guard, and did not wish them to come near me; but, turning down into my own gateway, a man passed close by me, saying distinctly in my ear, though in a low voice, first in Tigré and then in Arabic, “_Fear nothing_, or, Be not afraid.” This hint, short as it was, gave me no small courage. I had scarcely dined, when a servant came with a letter from Achmet at Arkeeko, telling me how ill he had been, and how sorry he was that I refused to come to see him, as Mahomet Gibberti had told him I could help him. He desired me also to keep the bearer with me in my house, and give him charge of the gate till he could come to Masuah himself.