Two white men to fight one another," answered Babalatchi, with alacrity.
"And how many will be left then?
How many?
Tell me, you who are wise." "The downfall of an enemy is the consolation of the unfortunate," said Babalatchi, sententiously.

"They are on every sea; only the wisdom of the Most High knows their number--but you shall know that some of them suffer." "Tell me, Babalatchi, will they die?
Will they both die ?" asked Omar, in sudden agitation.
Aissa made a movement.

Babalatchi held up a warning hand.
"They shall, surely, die," he said steadily, looking at the girl with unflinching eye.
"Ay wa! But die soon! So that I can pass my hand over their faces when Allah has made them stiff." "If such is their fate and yours," answered Babalatchi, without hesitation.

"God is great!" A violent fit of coughing doubled Omar up, and he rocked himself to and fro, wheezing and moaning in turns, while Babalatchi and the girl looked at him in silence.

Then he leaned back against the tree, exhausted.
"I am alone, I am alone," he wailed feebly, groping vaguely about with his trembling hands.