"Infidel dog!" roared the pasha, venting his wrath in English, "barbarian and idolater, thou shalt die!"
Thereupon, Captain Deering dropped down beside the orphan, and sued for mercy.
"Be merciful, O great prince!" he cried. "Have pity on your humblest slave. His heart is filled with gratitude."
The pasha growled some reply that was indistinct, but which to the startled Figgins, sounded like the rumbling of distant thunder.
"Oh, what shall I do?" moaned the orphan. "Oh, somebody take me home."
"Silence," whispered Captain Deering. "Prostrate yourself as they do. Bury your face and be silent, until his excellency bids you rise. He may then overlook it."
Mr. Figgins scarce dared to breathe.
There he lay, with his face upon the ground, humbly awaiting the stern despot's permission to move.
He waited long—very long.