"He shall not die!" exclaimed Selim. "I will take him into my own tent, as my fair share of the booty, and he shall be my servant."
Said could find no words in which to express his thanks. The men left the tent grumbling; and when they communicated Selim's decision to the women and children, who were waiting outside, they were greeted by terrible shrieks and lamentations, and threats were made that they would avenge Almansor's death on his murderer themselves, because his own father would not take vengeance.
The other captives were divided among the tribe. Some were released, in order that they might obtain ransom for the rich merchants; others were sent out as shepherds with the flocks; and many who had formerly been waited upon by ten slaves, were doomed to perform menial services in this camp. Not so with Said, however. Was it his courageous and heroic manner, or the mysterious influence of a kind fairy, that attached Selim to him so strongly? It would be hard to say; but Said lived in the chief's tent more as a son than as servant. Soon, however, the strange partiality of the old chief drew down on Said the hatred of the other servants. He met everywhere only savage looks, and if he went alone through the camp he heard on all sides curses and threats directed against him, and more than once arrows had flown by close to his breast--and that they did not hit him he ascribed to the silver whistle that he wore constantly in his bosom. He often complained to Selim of these attempts on his life; but the chiefs efforts to discover the would-be assassin were in vain, for the whole tribe seemed to be in league against the favored stranger. So Selim said to him one day: "I had hoped that you might possibly replace the son who fell by your hand. It is not your fault or mine that this could not be. All feel bitter hatred toward you, and it is not in my power to protect you for the future, for how would it benefit either you or myself to bring the guilty ones to punishment after they had stealthily killed you? Therefore, when the men return from their present expedition, I will say to them that your father has sent me a ransom, and I will send you by some trusty men across the desert."
"But could I trust myself with any of these men?" asked Said in amazement. "Would they not kill me on the way?"
"The oath that they will take before me will protect you; it has never yet been broken," replied Selim calmly.
Some days after this the men returned to camp, and Selim kept his promise. He presented the young man with weapons, clothes and a horse, summoned all the available men, and chose five of their number to conduct Said across the desert, and bound them by a formidable oath not to kill him, and then took leave of Said with tears.
The five men rode moodily and silently through the desert with Said, who noticed how unwillingly they were fulfilling their commission; and it caused him not a little anxiety to find that two of them were present at the time he killed Almansor. When they were about an eight hours' journey from the camp. Said heard the men whispering among themselves, and remarked that their manner was more and more sullen. He tried to catch what they were saying, and made out that they were conversing in a language understood only by this tribe, and only employed by them in their secret or dangerous undertakings. Selim, whose intention it had been to keep the young man permanently with him in his tent, had devoted many hours to teaching the young man these secret words; but what he now overheard was not of the most comforting nature.
"This is the spot," said one; "here we attacked the caravan, and here fell the bravest of men by the hand of a boy."
"The wind has covered the tracks of his horse," continued another, "but I have not forgotten them."
"And shall he who laid hands on him still live and be at liberty, and thus cast reproach on us? When was it ever heard before that a father failed to revenge the death of his only son? But Selim grows old and childish."