hear one's own people, and one's own temple, the temple of his fathers,
desecrated by the tongue of a lack-brained Jew trinket-vender."

"You know, then, of this Caaba--of the God they worship there?" asked
the priest.

Musa shook his head, and made a gesture of denial.

"Musa knows little of such things," he replied. "Yet the Caaba is a name
sacred in Arabian tradition, and as such, it suits me ill to hear it on
the tongue of a craven-hearted Jew. In sooth, the coward knave has left
his trumpery bundle all open as it is. I warrant me he will come back
for it in good time."

A dark-haired lad in a striped silk garment here passed through the
tent.

"Hither, Kedar!" called the Sheikh. "Recite for our visitor the story of
Moses."

The lad at once began the story, reciting it in a sort of chant, and
accompanying his words with many a gesture. The company listened
breathlessly, now giving vent to deep groans as the persecution of the
children of Israel was described, now bowing their heads in reverence at
the revelation of the burning bush, now waving their arms in excitement
and starting forward with flashing eyes as the lad pictured the passage
of the Red Sea.

Yusuf had heard some vague account of the story before, but, with the
passionate nature of the Oriental, he was strangely moved as he listened