"Look, lady!" he cried.

He tossed the pigeon high into the air, allowed her a little distance,
then threw the hawk.

"No! Oh, no! don't!" cried Damaris, as the hawk rose, "stooped" and
missed the pigeon by a hair's-breadth as it "put in", which means that
it flew straight into a small niche of a minaret for cover.

"Ah!" cried Damaris, and "_Bi-sma-llah_!" ejaculated Abdul, as he threw
the lure of a dead plover and called his hawk with the luring Eastern
call. "Coo-coo," he called; "coo-coo," to which the hawk responded as
a well-trained _shahin_ should.

Hugh Carden Ali stood with his hand on the stallion's mane, looking up
at the sky, in which shone a great star.

"The hawk of Egypt failed," he said to himself. "Flown at a white
bird, it failed. The House of Allah, who is God, gave sanctuary to the
little white bird. Praise be to Allah who is God."

He looked down at the girl, who was kneeling, consoling the dog, who,
reft 'tween pride and pain, showed a lamentable countenance. Suddenly
she looked up and rose, and stood silently.

"Come," he said simply, while he longed to pick her up and ride with
her to his home in the Oasis. "I will take you to your hotel."

"My car is waiting for me in the Sikket el-Gedideh," she replied.