"Bismillah!" exclaimed Bo Muzem. "All English merchants cannot be uncles to the young dog who wrote this letter!"

"Tell me," added he, "did you ever hear of an English merchant in Mogador named 'For-G.o.d-sake-bias?'"

The Jew smiled, and with some difficulty restraining an inclination to laugh outright at the question, gave the Arab a translation of the words, "For G.o.d's sake, buy us."

Bo Muzem was now satisfied that he had been "sold."

"I shall get no further," said he, after they had parted with the Jew.

"I shall return to my partners. We shall kill the Christian dog who wrote the letter and sell his two companions for what we can get for them."

"That is your best plan," rejoined the grazier. "They do not deserve freedom; and may Allah forbid that hereafter any true believer should try to help them to it!"

Early next morning Bo Muzem set out on his return journey, thankful for the good fortune that had enabled him so early to detect the imposture that was being practised upon him.

He was accompanied by the grazier, who chanced to be journeying in the same direction.

"The next Christian slaves I see for sale I intend buying," remarked the latter, as they journeyed along.

"Bismillah!" exclaimed Bo Muzem; "that is strange. I thought you had had enough of them?"

"So I have," a.s.sented the grazier; "but that's just why I want more of them. I want revenge on the unbelieving dogs; and will buy them for the purpose of obtaining it. I will work them until they are too old for anything, and then let them die in a ditch."

"Then buy the ones we have for sale," proposed Bo Muzem. "We are willing to sell them cheap, all but one. The man who wrote this letter I must kill. I have sworn it by the Prophet's beard."

As both parties appeared anxious for a bargain, they soon came to an understanding as to the terms; and the grazier promised to give ten dollars in money and four heads of horses for each of the slaves that was for sale. He also agreed that one of his herdsmen should a.s.sist in driving the cattle to any settlement where a market might be found for them.

The simple Bo Muzem had now in reality been "sold": for the story he had been told about the escape for the two slaves, Terence and Jim, was wholly and entirely false.

CHAPTER SEVENTY SEVEN.

RAIS MOURAD.

Six days had pa.s.sed, during which the white slaves were comparatively well treated, far better than at any other time since their shipwreck.

They were not allowed to suffer from thirst, and were supplied with nearly as much food as they required.

On the sixth day after the departure of Bo Muzem, they were visited by their masters, accompanied by a stranger who was a Moor.

They were commanded to get up on their feet; and were then examined by the Moor in a manner that awakened suspicions that he was about to buy them.

The Moor wore a caftan richly embroidered on the breast and sleeves, and confined around the waist with a silken sash or girdle.

A pair of small yellow Morocco leather boots peeped out beneath trousers of great width made of the finest satin; and on his head was a turban of bright scarlet silk.

Judging from the respect shown to him by the merchants, he was an individual of much importance. This was also evident from the number of his followers, all of whom were mounted on beautiful Arabian horses.

The appearance of his whole retinue gave evidence that he was some personage of great wealth and influence.

After he had examined the slaves, he retired with the two merchants; and shortly afterwards the Krooman learnt from one of his followers that the white slaves had become the property of the wealthy Moor.

The bright antic.i.p.ations of liberty that had filled their souls for the last few days vanished at this intelligence. Each felt a shock of pain, of hopeless despair, that for some moments stunned him almost to speechlessness.

Harry Blount was the first to awaken to the necessity of action.

"Where are our masters the merchants?" he exclaimed. "They cannot, they shall not sell us. Come, all of you! Follow me!"

Rushing forth from the penn, that had been allowed them for a residence, the young Englishman, followed by his companions, started towards the dwelling of the sheik, to which place the merchants and the Moor had retired.

All were now excited with disappointment and despair; and on reaching the sheik's house, the two Arab merchants were called out to listen to a volley of reproaches.

"Why have you sold us?" asked the Krooman, as the merchants came forth.

"Have you not promised that we should be taken to Swearah, and has not your partner gone there to obtain the money for our ransom?"

The two merchants were, at this moment, on good terms with themselves and all the world besides. They had made what they believed to be a good bargain, and were in the humour for being agreeable.

Moreover, they did not wish to be thought guilty of a wrong, even by Christian slaves; and they therefore condescended to give some explanation.

"Suppose," said one of them, "that our partner Bo Muzem should find a man in Mogador who is willing to ransom you, how much are we to get for you?"

"One hundred dollars for me," answered the Krooman, "and one hundred and fifty for each of the others."

"True; and for that we should have to take you there, and be at the expense of maintaining you on the road?"

"Yes."

"Well, Rais Mourad, this wealthy Moor, has paid us one hundred and fifty dollars for each of you; and should we not be fools to take you all the way to Mogador for less money? Besides, we might not get paid anything, whereas we have received it in cash from Rais Mourad. You are no longer our slaves, but his."

When the Krooman had made this communication to the others, they saw that all further parley with the Arab merchants was useless; and that their destiny was now in the keeping of Rais Mourad.

At Harry's request, the Krooman endeavoured to ascertain in what direction the Moor was going to take them; but the only information they received was that Rais Mourad knew his own business, and was not in the habit of conferring with his slaves as to what he should do with them.

Some of the followers of the Moor now came forward; and the slaves were ordered back to their penn, where they found some food awaiting them.

They were commanded to eat it immediately, as they were soon to set forth upon a long journey.

Not one of them, after their cruel disappointment, had any appet.i.te; and Sailor Bill doggedly declared that he would never taste food again.

"Don't despair, Bill," said Harry; "there is yet hope for us."

"Where, where is it?" exclaimed Colin; "I cannot perceive it."

"If we are constantly changing owners," argued Harry, "we may yet fall into the hands of some one who will take us to Mogador."

"Is that your only hope?" asked Colin in a tone of disappointment.

"Think of poor Jim," added Bill; "he's 'ad fifty masters, been ten years in slavery, and not free yet; and no 'ope av it neyther."

"Shall we go quietly with our new master?" asked Colin.