The manner of Hassan that evening had greatly changed from the sulky approach to insolence which he had displayed in the morning. He was more than usually obsequious to Ali, and almost courteous even to the Feringhee kafir. Hassan politely inquired after the state of Robin's wound, as if feeling a kindly interest in his health. Hassan warned the young Englishman to be on his guard against the evil effects of travelling in the heat after so serious an injury as he had received, as it would be most likely to bring on fever.
"Remain quiet in the tent," continued the self-constituted medical adviser, "I myself will bring to you your repast."
"No, thanks," said Robin; "I will rather eat in the open air like the rest."
Hassan seemed a little disappointed, but by no means offended. Apparently wishing to make up for past rudeness, at the evening meal, he himself helped Robin from a large platter heaped with cakes of unleavened bread, baked upon iron plates over the fire.
Just after Robin had given thanks for the food thus provided for him in the desert, a miserable, half-starved dog, attracted by the scent of savoury curry and piles, made its way into the circle. The creature looked timidly around as if seeking a protector, and then, as if by instinct, went up to the pale-faced boy.
"How comes the brute here," exclaimed Ali; "we look not even for wild dogs in a desert like this!"
"I should think that the poor creature must have been left here by travellers, stopping like ourselves for water and rest," said Robin, patting the animal as he spoke. "He does not look like a common wild dog."
"Kick out the unclean brute!" exclaimed Hassan, in a tone of disgust.
"He is hungry, poor fellow," said the English lad, and he threw his own unleavened cake to the dog.
"Kick him out! Beat him! Kill him!" vociferated Hassan, starting to his feet.