and his eyes were keen and twinkling.

"One question mayhap demands another," returned Yusuf. "How knew you
that I am a Persian? I no longer wear Persian garb."

"What! Ask an Arab such a question as that!" said the other, smiling.
"Know you not, Persian, that we of the desert lands are accustomed to
trace by a mark in the sand, the breaking of a camel-thorn, things as
difficult? The stamp of one's country cannot be thrown off with one's
clothes. Nay, more; you have been noted as one learned among the
Persians."

Yusuf bent his head in assent. "Truly, stranger, your penetration is
incomprehensible," he said, with a touch of sarcasm.

"No, no!" returned the other, good-humoredly; "but, marking you out for
what you are, I thought your company might, perchance, lessen the
dreariness of the way. I am Amzi, the Meccan. Some call me Amzi the rich
Meccan; others, Amzi the learned; others, Amzi the benevolent. For
myself, I pretend nothing, aspire to nothing but to know all that may be
known, to live a life of ease, at peace with all men, and to help the
needy or unfortunate where I may. More than one stranger has not been
sorry for meeting Amzi the benevolent, in Mecca. Have you friends
there?"

"None," said Yusuf. "Yet there is a tradition among our people that the
Guebres at one time had temples even in the land of Arabia. Have you
heard aught of it?"

"It is said that at one time fire-temples were scattered throughout this