The courier places his hand on his chest and bows. Praise delights
even the tympanum of an Arab, and flattery gains favors in the most
unexpected quarter.

"_Ciel!_ we are in the agony of suspense," declares the Frenchman, never
once taking his eyes off the Arab's face.

"Great is Allah, and Mohammed is his prophet. I am but as a grain of
sand on the sea-shore. Let the praise be his."

With this preliminary, Mustapha Cadi gives his plan of action briefly.

It was his intention to go to Al Jezira, to seek the French commandant
at the barracks known as the Kasbah, and give him the information
concerning Bab Azoun.

It has long been the ambition of the various French generals stationed
in Algeria to kill or capture the notorious desert prince who for years
has defied their power, suddenly making a bold dash upon some point,
and, leaving smoking ruins in his wake, as mysteriously vanish.

Again and again have they sought to track his band over the plains,
along the desert and into the wild recesses of the mountains, but it has
always turned out a failure. Bab Azoun, on his native heath, laughs them
to scorn, and once laid an ambuscade in which the soldiers suffered
badly.

Hence, it can be set down as certain that the military governor of
Algiers will be delighted with a chance to surround the tiger of the