At last, ere he reached the Bedouin tents, that were still but slender black points against the horizon, he saw the Sheik and a party of horsemen returning from a foraging quest, and in ignorance as yet of the abduction of Djelma.

He galloped straight to them, and halted across their line of march, with the folds of the little white flag fluttering in the sun.

The Bedouins drew bridle, and Ilderim advanced alone.

He was a magnificent man, of middle age, with the noblest type of the eagle-eyed, aquiline desert beauty.

He was a superb specimen of his race, without the lean, withered, rapacious, vulture look which often mars it.