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The rivals stooped down and exchanged glances under the horse’s belly.

“He is the sheykh of the town,” said Hassan. “And I have no house of my own.”

“He is the Guardian of the Frontier,” said the sheykh. “And may it please your Excellency, he has taken my best house and is living in it without rent. A sin it is, and a great loss to me.”

“Your honor does not mean to ruin either of us?” coaxed Hassan, glancing up at the great man’s face.

“In sh’ Allah, he does but jest,” muttered the sheykh, with fervor.

“I have the power,” said Milhem sternly, “and by Allah Most High, I will quarter myself and all my retinue upon that one of you who first breaks the peace. To-night my camp is pitched beyond the town. You have heard my judgment. Go!”

The old Arab and the young Circassian fell back together, grinning at that clever judgment. But presently the latter returned, and clutched Shems-ud-dìn’s stirrup.

“As for thee,” he cried, “thou shalt lodge nowhere but in my house. I swear it.”

“Yes, go with him, O my brother,” said Milhem, as one well pleased. “It seems thou art a tamer of wild beasts. Go with him and Allah with thee.”