“Ibrahim,” corrected the youth.
“Well, Ibrahim, I am Max; that is enough for you. If it isn’t, I am also the madcap, and I can fight as well as talk. How do you feel?”
“So you are the young fellow we picked up in the sand?”
“I don’t know. I only know that I don’t know, I mean I know——”
“You know plenty,” said Ibrahim, laughing at the confusion displayed by Max.
“Where am I?”
“In the tent belonging to Sherif el Habib of Khorassan: and I am Ibrahim, his nephew and friend.”
“Where is Girzilla?”
“Who is that? Your sister?”
“My sister? No; my friend, my guide, my——”