Al-Asad laughed scornfully as he rose to his feet, swallowing the bait which hung from the line Fate dangled in front of him for his removal.
“Bowlegs!” He spoke in infinite scorn as he pulled himself up to his full height, and laughed again as he caused the muscle to ripple up and down his arms. “’Twere well to show the little man with legs even as round as thy turban that there is one who can spike him upon his finger. Thinkest thou, Yussuf, that the white maid will lose her golden covering at the rising of the sun? ’Twere a pity to my mind to mutilate such beauty in a woman, even if she be sent to the slave market to ease the tiger-cat’s jealousy.”
Yussuf pulled at his hubble-bubble, making no sign of his longing to accelerate his companion’s departure.
“Methinks the beautiful Zarah spoke in haste and in anger. Perchance she is tired of her white playthings and yearns for a master.”
“Thinkest thou, who hast learned much wisdom in thy blindness, that she will come to love me?” Al-Asad asked eagerly.
“Yea! she loves thee even now. Thou art her real mate. The great tiger-cats mate with one another, my son, and were it not wise to stay here, for fear that thou art bested by Bowlegs, and that the news of thy defeat is carried to her.”
He showed no sign of his intense satisfaction when the Nubian, primed with a desire to reduce Bowlegs to shreds, ran, laughing, down the path.
Strong in the fatalism of the East, Yussuf sat on, pulling calmly at his hubble-bubble, waiting for the striking of his hour, and made no answer to a slight hissing sound which came from behind the rocks. Instead, he rose slowly and pushed open the door of the hut, and, with the Oriental’s love of elaborate detail where intrigue is concerned, shouted at Ralph Trenchard:
“Thou infidel, thou white dog, sleepest thou? Hast thou no bowels of compassion for the white woman? Dost thou leave her here to work as a slave, without an ache in thy heart of stone?”
Ralph Trenchard sprang up and crossed the hut quickly at the blind man’s beckoning finger.