parting of the ways. All that night Lingard had talked with Hassim while
the stars streamed from east to west like an immense river of sparks
above their heads. Immada listened, sometimes exclaiming low, sometimes
holding her breath. She clapped her hands once. A faint dawn appeared.

"You shall be treated like my father in the country," Hassim was saying.
A heavy dew dripped off the rigging and the darkened sails were black
on the pale azure of the sky. "You shall be the father who advises for
good--"

"I shall be a steady friend, and as a friend I want to be treated--no
more," said Lingard. "Take back your ring."

"Why do you scorn my gift?" asked Hassim, with a sad and ironic smile.

"Take it," said Lingard. "It is still mine. How can I forget that, when
facing death, you thought of my safety? There are many dangers before
us. We shall be often separated--to work better for the same end. If
ever you and Immada need help at once and I am within reach, send me a
message with this ring and if I am alive I will not fail you." He looked
around at the pale daybreak. "I shall talk to Belarab straight--like we
whites do. I have never seen him, but I am a strong man. Belarab must
help us to reconquer your country and when our end is attained I won't
let him eat you up."

Hassim took the ring and inclined his head.

"It's time for us to be moving," said Lingard. He felt a slight tug at
his sleeve. He looked back and caught Immada in the act of pressing her
forehead to the grey flannel. "Don't, child!" he said, softly.