"Drink again," he ordered. "You will save just so much of the contents of your water skins. Now try not to be thirsty before sunset."
He looked over the saddle girths.
"That's all right," he murmured. "Now go. In two hours the dawn will be here. You must be out of sight."
I was filled with emotion at this last moment; I went to the Targa and took his hand.
"Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh," I asked in a low voice, "why are you doing this?"
He stepped back and I saw his dark eyes gleam.
"Why?" he said.
"Yes, why?"
He replied with dignity:
"The Prophet permits every just man, once in his lifetime, to let pity take the place of duty. Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh is turning this permission to the advantage of one who saved his life."