As soon as Azim reached the pilgrim he sprang from his horse, laid his
gun down on the sand, and, taking a skin-bottle of water which hung at
his saddle bow, proceeded to pour some down the throat of the man, who
gave signs of returning life.

Yusef almost instantly joined him; but what were the feelings of the
Syrian when in the pale, wasted features of the sufferer before him he
recognized those of Sadi, his deadly, merciless foe!

"Let me hold the skin-bottle, Sheik!" exclaimed Yusef; "let the draught
of cold water be from my hand." The Syrian remembered the command, "If
thine enemy thirst, give him drink."

Sadi was too ill to be conscious of anything passing around him; but he
drank with feverish eagerness, as if his thirst could never be slaked.

"How shall we bear him hence?" said the Sheik; "my journey cannot be
delayed."

"Go on thy journey, O Sheik," replied Yusef; "I will return to the
tents with this man, if thou but help me to place him on my horse. He
shall share my tent and my cup,--he shall be to me as a brother."

"Dost thou know him?" inquired the Sheik.

"Ay, well I know him," the Syrian replied.

Sadi was gently placed on the horse, for it would have been death to
remain long unsheltered on the sand. Yusef walked beside the horse,