"It was not a fortunate hour, and you have escaped the houris! To keep these fellows quiet when plunder is in view, were to keep fire in a goat-skin. But, by the Prophet, we may lose our prize yet."
The score of horsemen belonging to the Cafila had ranged themselves in front, thinking, by a show of resistance, to intimidate the Arabs, and make terms; but these, with Ali at their head, immediately dashed forward, standing erect in their stirrups, ready to pour in a volley, but the Moors, seeing their determination, at once turned their horses' heads and fled.
"Shame upon them!" said Ali; "they are soldiers—they are Moslem—they abandon their trust without a blow. Yes! slaves are cowards! Will they not tremble when Sheik Hamed rides to the gates of Marocco? Now mark! my word is passed for their safety, on submission. I have other game afoot." And putting his horse to speed, he disappeared across the plain in the direction of the flying horsemen.
The Arabs, meeting with no resistance, dismounted, and proceeded to secure their plunder, stationing half-a-dozen pickets to prevent a surprise. The Moors and camel-drivers were stripped of everything that was of value, and the camels with merchandise were collected and made to kneel down by themselves. The Arab left in command galloped about superintending the disposal of the spoil, recommending submission and promising protection.
The old Fez Moor, finding that no one was killed, consoled himself in his fatalism, ejaculating as he was stripped,—
"It is written! God is great! It is written!"
Others, seeing the robbers were so forbearing, were less patient, but for these a hand on the dagger was an unanswerable argument.
Yusuf had been a patient spectator of the scenes which had been enacted, but it now came to his turn, and one of the robbers approached to strip him.
"Friend," said he, "offer me no violence. I am under the protection of your Sheik Sidi Hamed Ibn Ishem. My journey is to meet him. In his name, forbear."