“If that’s the case how could he steal our caravan?” demanded Bessie, triumphantly.
“Don’t ask so many questions, Bess. We’re an ignorant lot of duffers, I’ll admit, but the fact remains that Kasam is either a jail-bird or a horse-thief. You can take your choice.”
“Do you know whose house this is, and who is entertaining us in this sumptuous way?” asked Janet, curiously.
“Haven’t the faintest idea. This is certainly the land of mystery. We don’t owe it to Kasam, you may be sure, for he had no idea when we entered the town where he was going to lodge us. And it can’t be the mighty Khan, for he won’t see us or have anything to do with the Commission or its members. Possibly it’s that uncle whom Kasam used to talk about, the vizier, or something of that sort. If we could only find anyone to talk with we might discover the clue to the puzzle.”
“In the meantime we’re no better than prisoners,” said Aunt Lucy, snappishly. “There’s nothing to see if we go out and nothing to do if we stay in, and we’re cut off from all the news of the world. We don’t even know who’s been elected President of the United States, and we can’t ask a single question because nobody understands us. If you men had any gumption at all you’d hustle around and find out why we are treated in this impertinent manner. One thing’s certain; unless something is done mighty soon I, for one, mean to quit the Commission and go back home—even if I have to walk and pay my own expenses!”
As the good lady paused in her speech a distant noise of drums and bells was heard, accompanied by the low rumble of a multitude of voices. The sounds gradually grew nearer, and Allison stepped out upon a balcony to see what caused it. Janet and Bessie followed him, but Aunt Lucy had aroused herself to such a pitch of indignation that she remained seated in her chair, busily endeavoring to mend the rents in her travelling skirt, caused during the stress of the long journey to Mekran, and refused to even look at “the heathens.”
A procession turned the corner of the street and approached at a slow pace, while the inhabitants of the neighboring houses flocked out upon the balconies and roofs to watch it pass. First came a dozen Baluch warriors, the royal colors proclaiming them members of the tribe of Ugg. They were superbly mounted and seemed to be picked men. Following them were three dromedaries, gaily caparisoned. Two were ridden by native officers, but on the third was seated a man dressed simply in a black flowing robe confined at the waist with a silver girdle. He wore upon his head a round black cap, being shielded from the sun by a square of green silk, supported by four slender rods attached to his dromedary’s saddle.
“It is the Persian! It is the great physician!” murmured the people, as this rare personage gazed about him and with dignified bows returned the greetings.
All in Mekran had heard the wondrous story of this mystic who had caused Burah Khan to live six days longer than the fates had decreed, and all united in honoring him.
Surging on either side of the dromedaries came a rabble beating upon gongs and jingling bells while they shouted extravagant compliments to Merad the Persian.