“I will let the chariot alone to-day. In its place, let them bring me a fifth horse, if thou hast it; he should be barebacked, and fleet as the others.”
Ilderim’s wonder was aroused, and he summoned a servant immediately.
“Bid them bring the harness for the four,” he said—“the harness for the four, and the bridle for Sirius.”
Ilderim then arose.
“Sirius is my love, and I am his, O son of Arrius. We have been comrades for twenty years—in tent, in battle, in all stages of the desert we have been comrades. I will show him to you.”
Going to the division curtain, he held it, while Ben-Hur passed under. The horses came to him in a body. One with a small head, luminous eyes, neck like the segment of a bended bow, and mighty chest, curtained thickly by a profusion of mane soft and wavy as a damsel’s locks, nickered low and gladly at sight of him.
“Good horse,” said the sheik, patting the dark-brown cheek. “Good horse, good-morning.” Turning then to Ben-Hur, he added, “This is Sirius, father of the four here. Mira, the mother, awaits our return, being too precious to be hazarded in a region where there is a stronger hand than mine. And much I doubt,” he laughed as he spoke—“much I doubt, O son of Arrius, if the tribe could endure her absence. She is their glory; they worship her; did she gallop over them, they would laugh. Ten thousand horsemen, sons of the desert, will ask to-day, ‘Have you heard of Mira?’ And to the answer, ‘She is well,’ they will say, ‘God is good! blessed be God!’”
“Mira—Sirius—names of stars, are they not, O sheik?” asked Ben-Hur, going to each of the four, and to the sire, offering his hand.
“And why not?” replied Ilderim. “Wert thou ever abroad on the desert at night?”
“No.”