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At a word from Milhem, the soldiers surrounded both factions.

“Where is the sheykh of the place?” shouted the great man furiously. A tall old man stepped forward, making reverence. “Where the chief of the colonists?”

“I am he!” bawled the prisoner insolently, from between the troopers guarding him. “My name is Hassan Agha, and the title Guardian of the Frontier was conferred upon me by express firmàn.”

Milhem smiled. “Release his Excellency at once. Allah forgive the indignity offered to one so great and powerful. By the Korân, I took thee for a common murderer. Deign to come a little nearer! I would get down off my horse and offer him to your Highness were I less weary with traveling.”

The man approached, shamefaced, while a titter spread among the crowd.

“Stand on my right hand, O Great Guardian of the Frontier, and thou, O sheykh, on my left.... Praise be to God!” he cried suddenly. “His Grace, Hassan Agha, Guardian of the Frontier, deigns to stand beside my horse. O honor!”

A roar of laughter went up from crowd and soldiery.