Where is your gold?
Bid," satirically.
"Two thousand rupees!" shouted the professional seller.
"I have no gold, but my master will give 10,000 rupees for yonder maid.
Quick! Old fool, be quick!" "Begone, thou beggar!" And the old man spat.
"Mem-sahib," the Mohammedan called out in English, "do not look toward me, or all will be lost.

I am Ali, Bruce Sahib's chief mahout; and we have believed you dead! Take care! I go to inform Ahmed.

Bruce Sahib has not returned." Kathlyn, when she heard that voice, shut her eyes.
Umballa had drawn closer.

There was something about this half veiled slave that stirred his recollection.

Where had he seen that graceful poise?
The clearness of the skin, though dark; the roundness of the throat and arms.