Even had the story told by the woman been true, her crime would have been considered sufficiently great to have endangered her life: but her sin was greater than that.
She had bestowed favour upon a slave—a Christian dog—and had aroused the jealousy of her Mahometan lord and master.
Fatima seemed happy, for nothing less than a miracle could, in her opinion, save the life of her fellow-wife, who chanced to be a hated rival.
After drawing his scimitar from its sheath, and cocking his musket, Golah ordered all the slaves to squat themselves on the ground, and in a row.
This order was quickly comprehended and obeyed—the whites seating themselves together at one end of the line.
Golah’s son and the other guard—each with his musket loaded and cocked—were stationed in front of the row; and were ordered by the sheik to shoot any one who attempted to get up from the ground.
The monster then stepped up to Colin, and, seizing the young Scotchman by the auburn locks, dragged him a few paces apart from his companions. There, for a time, he was left alone.
Golah then proceeded to serve out some cheni to every individual on the ground, but none was given to the woman who had aroused his anger, nor to Colin.
In the sheik’s opinion, to have offered them food would have been an act as foolish as to have poured it upon the sands.
Food was intended to sustain life, and it was not designed by him that they should live much longer. And yet it was evident from his manner that he had not quite determined as to how they were to die.