"Every one knows the name of the oldest woman in the Sahara," said Hammet Abou, "and the victorious are always brothers."
"What do you want with me?" she asked, thinking of the helplessness of the village.
Hammet Abou pointed to the hut
"You have a white captive in there. Is he alive?"
"What is that to you, son of a dog?"
"The mother of many sons is wise," said Hammet Abou portentously, "but she does not know that this man carries the Evil Eye. His dog carries the Evil Eye for his enemies. Your people have gone to battle. Unless this man is cast out from your village, your young men, your grandsons and your sons will be destroyed."
The old woman regarded him calmly.
"I do not fear it," she said tranquilly. "We have had corn and oil in plenty. He is sacred."
For the first time she looked at his companion, tall and slender and evidently younger.
"You favor the coward Franks," she said in a high voice. "You have come to fall upon us in our desolation."