“Ah, but I know you well,” declared Frank. “You are a robber and a great rascal. You hate your enemies, and you slay them with delight. Your hands are stained with blood, but your conscience does not trouble you.”
“Dog of a Christian!” roared the old sheik, quivering with passion. “Do you dare speak thus to me?”
“Why should I fear? You cannot harm me!”
This statement was sufficient to cause Ain-el-Khair’s face to change from an expression of fury to one of derision and amusement.
“Fool!” he sneered. “It must be that you have lost your senses. I have more than half a hundred men behind me, and they would wipe three Christians off the face of the earth in a moment.”
“If you had a thousand men, you could not harm me. I am protected by a power you know nothing of.”
The old sheik knew not what to make of the boy, and so he said:
“I will not pass words with you. My followers have arrived, and we must move on. When you have paid tribute, we will leave you.”
“We shall not pay tribute to you.”
“What? Knave, do you dare refuse? Then I will slay you with my own hand!”