the sandy bottom of the dry wady, and beside it was a flat boulder at
the foot of which were prints of the shepherd's sandals and, on the
bank behind it, the mark where his shoulders had comfortably rested.
He made no apology for the poverty of his entertainment; he had never
known anything better.

"Now, brother," he said busily to Momus, "if thou'lt lend me of thy
height, thou shalt have of my agility and we will set up a douar for
the lady."

With frank composure he stripped off the burden of skins that covered
him until he stood forth in a single hide of wool, with a tumble of
sheep pelts at his feet. In each one was a thorn preserved for use and
with these he pinned them all together, scrambled out on the bank,
emitting his startling cry at the sheep that obstructed his path. From
above he shouted down to Momus.

"Stretch it, brother, over thy head. I shall pin it down with stones
on either side. Now, unless some jackal dislodges these weights before
morning, ye will be safe covered from the cold. There! God never made
a man till He prepared him a cave to sleep under! I've never slept in
the open, yet. How is it with thee now, lady?"

He was down again before her with the red light of the great bed of
coals illuminating him with a glow that was almost an expression of
his charity.

She saw that he had the straight serious features of the Ishmaelite,
but lacked the fierce yet wondering gaze of the Arab. Aside from these
superior indications in his face there was nothing to separate him