tuneful, chant of the men who were working it;

_"All-ah sa-eed!--Ne-bi sa-eed! Ohé! Sa-eed! Sa-eed! Sa-EED!"_

In the distance, dying away, he heard the plodding hoofs of a string of
pack mules. From the direction of the mine came the hoodlum racket which
betokens, in Syria, the efforts of a number of honest labourers to
perform their daily tasks in an efficient and orderly way.

Kirby, in sleepy amaze, looked at his watch in the dim dawn light. He
saw it was still a full half hour before the men were due to begin work.
And by the sounds he judged that the day's labour was evidently well
under way. Yes, and to-day there was to have been no work done!

Kirby jumped out of bed and strode dazedly to his tent door. At the mine
below him his fellaheen were as busy as so many dirty and gaudy bees.
Even the lordly lazy Turkish soldiers were lending a hand at windlass
and crane. Over the nick of the pass, leading toward Jerusalem, the last
animal of a mule train was vanishing. Najib, who had as usual escorted
the departing shipment of ore to the opening in the pass, was trotting
back toward camp.

At sight of Kirby in the tent door the little superintendent veered from
his course toward the mine and increased his pace to a run as he bore
down upon the American. Najib's swart face was aglow. But his eyes were
those of a man who has neglected to sleep. His cheeks still bore flecks
of the dust he had thrown on his head when Kirby had explained the wreck
of his scheme and of his future. There, in all likelihood, the dust
smears would remain until the next rain should wash them off. But,
beyond these tokens of recent mental strife, Najib's visage shone like