"Good! When the soldiers bring the men we will surround them, and the rest will follow."

Their hands upon their swords, the soldiers stood waiting beside the door.

Mohammed remained silent and thoughtful in the middle of the mosque.

He felt that a great, an important moment had come for him. He thought of his mother. "She hovers over me; she looks down, and sees her son enter on a new life. When I leave the mosque, I will be no longer the poor, despised boy; I will have proved myself a man. O my mother, look down on me, and pray to Allah to be merciful to me!"

A dark shadow crossed the rays of the sun which fell through the open door. It was one of the soldiers who came in with the sheik.

Mohammed did not step forward to meet him, as he should have done, out of respect for the old man, with his white beard. To-day he was no longer the poor boy, who must bow down before his superiors. He was himself one of the powers that be. He held his head aloft while the sheik approached.

"I was summoned in the name of the tschorbadji," said the sheik, looking with astonishment at Mohammed. "It is very strange that I find here no one but Mohammed Ali, the son of Ibrahim Aga. Had I known that the tschorbadji had sent a boy to me, I would have required him to bring me the message."

"I summoned you in the name of the tscborbadji, and in his name I stand here!" said Mohammed, proudly. "I am not a boy, as you are pleased to call me, but an acknowledged authority. I have received my authority from the tschorbadji, and I demand submission from you!"

"Submission to you!" exclaimed the sheik, with a contemptuous glance.

Mohammed's eyes flashed fiercely, as he placed his hand threateningly on his pistol.

"Yes, you the sheik, must yield to me. See! there are the others who dared to revolt. -Guard the sheik well, you men; the ulemas also!"

The latter had now approached, accompanied by the soldiers, and Mohammed informed them that he, in the name of the tschorbadji, insisted upon their gathering in the taxes.

"We cannot and will not do it!" answered the sheik, proudly. "It is an injustice to demand the double tax, and it, would be folly to pay it. It is our duty to protect the community, and we will do it!"

"Well, do as you will!" cried Mohammed, with flashing eyes. "Who dares to preach rebellion shall surely die!--Hold fast these rebels, my men, bind their hands behind their backs with their own scarfs, and lead them to the governor's house. There let their heads fall, that all may know how justice punishes the rebellious."

"Help! help!" cried the sheik and the ulemas. "Help!"

Their cries resounded far and wide, and, while the soldiers were binding the ulemas and the sheik with their own scarfs, the armed people came pressing forward to the open door of the mosque.

Mohammed looked toward them with the raging glance of a lion.

"Who enters here, meets his death!" he cried, in a voice of thunder.

The men without shrunk back before the soldiers' gleaming weapons, and hastened to the other doors, but they found them all closed, only the one entrance was open, the one at which the collectors stood.

Within lay the sheik and the ulemas, all bound, upon their knees, praying the men of Praousta to come to their help. The men sought once more to storm the entrance, and once more they were repulsed.

"I swear, by Allah and the prophet, that the rebels shall die if they do not submit!" cried Mohammed, aloud. "Place your daggers at their breasts."

The soldiers did as they were ordered, and their prisoners lay, with widely-extended eyes, and shrieks on their parted lips which they dared not utter, for fear the sword-points would pierce their breasts. Mohammed stood erect beside them, his hand on his sword.

Suddenly a piercing, terrific cry arose from the midst of the crowd, and a slender female figure, clad entirely in white, the face concealed by a veil, rushed into the mosque. The soldiers dared not repulse her as they had done the men, as she flew past them toward that dreadful group.

"My father, my father!" she cries, in wildly-imploring tones. "If you must die, I will die with you!"

A strange tremor seizes on Mohammed; that wonderful voice thrills him to his very heart.

The veiled one sinks down at his feet, and raises her arms pleadingly to him.

"If you kill him, kill me also!"

In her passionate gestures she seizes her veil with her clasped hands and tears it from her face.

Mohammed saw now for the first time the youthful and beautiful face of the fair girl who was called the "Flower of Praousta." Her great black eyes were fastened imploringly on his. Her scarlet lips quivered as she repeated, "Oh, kill him not, but, if you must, then let me die with him!"

He looked at her as if he felt some witchcraft at work, then suddenly bent down and drew the veil over her face, as if he dared no longer look on her beauty.

"Leave this place, I do not fight with women," he said, and his voice sounded almost like that of a man.

"Be merciful," she prayed, but there was a change in her voice also, it was no longer so humble, but trembled with inward emotion.

He turned from her.

"Return to your home," he said, in a commanding voice. "First, however, tell your father that he must submit himself, and prevail upon these rebels to become obedient. If he succeeds, I swear, in the name of Allah, that he shall return with you to his home. Speak to him, and prove the power of your words."

"Return, Masa," said the sheik, in an unfaltering voice. "It was most improper for you to come here. You did it from love to me, therefore it must be pardoned. Now, however, I order you to go home, and remain there, as it becomes a woman. I, however, praise Allah; he alone must decide my fate, and the fate of all."

"No, father, I cannot leave you," cried Masa, breathlessly, pressing her father's hands to her lips. "Remember, you are the Lord of my life, the light of my eyes! Remember that I have no one but you in all the world, and that your Masa is as solitary as in a wilderness when you are not beside her. Remember that, O my father!"

"Enough!" interrupted Mohammed, in a harsh voice. "Enough words.-- You there, you men of Praousta, will you pay the tax, the double tax, as the tschorbadji has ordered?"

The men, who had pressed close against the high porch outside the mosque, remained silent for a moment and looked hesitatingly before them.

"Will you pay it?" repeated Mohammed. "You will, I am sure."

"No!" cried the sheik, aloud. "You will not, you shall not, pay this tax!"

"No," repeated the three ulemas. "No, you will not, you shall not, pay this tax!"

Then suddenly, as if inspired by the bold words of the four prisoners, the men held themselves more erect, and, looking threateningly at Mohammed and at the soldiers, repeated what the ulemas had said. "No, we will not, we will not pay the tschorbadji the double tax! We will pay neither the double nor the simple tax!"

"Good! you have spoken," said Mohammed. "Your fate is decided, and that of these men also!--Collectors, lock the door."

Masa uttered a cry, and, rushing to Mohammed, clung wildly to his knees.

"Mercy, lord, have mercy! Think of your own father, think of your mother! If you have a mother that you love, oh, think of her!"

He pushed her roughly and hastily from him. That word pierced his heart like a knife, and still he dared not listen to it.

There was a threatening murmur among the men, and several sought to press forward, but the collectors threatened them with instant death if they came forward a single step.

Two of the soldiers approached the young girl to carry her out.

"Let no one dare touch me, or I will throw myself on your swords!"

she cried. "If I must go, I will do so. But on you be the blood of my father if it is shed! I tell you, if you murder him, I will die also; and if you have a father or a mother in heaven, I will accuse you, young man!"

She uttered these words in a ringing voice, then flew toward the door. The soldiers pushed her out, and the collectors threw the iron-bound doors together.

"Now I turn to you," said Mohammed, breathing more freely, and looking toward the sheik and the ulemas.