Day after day, for many days, our captives were thus driven over the burning desert, suffering intensely from heat and thirst and hunger, as well as from fatigue¹, and treated with more or less cruelty according to the varying moods of their guards.

 

At last one afternoon they arrived at a city of considerable size, through the streets of which they were driven with unusual harshness by the Arab soldiers, who seemed to take pleasure in thus publicly heaping contempt on Christian² captives in the sight of the Mohammedan population.

 

Their case seemed truly desperate to Miles, as he and his comrades passed through the narrow streets, for no pitying eye, but many a frown, was cast on them by the crowds who stopped to gaze and scoff³.

 

What city they had reached they had no means of finding out, being ignorant of Arabic. Indeed, even though they had been able to converse⁴ with their guards, it is probable that these would have refused to hold communication with them.

 

Turning out of what appeared to be a sort of market-place, they were driven, rather than conducted, to a whitewashed⁵ building, into which they entered through a low strong door, studded with large iron-headed nails. As they entered a dark passage, the door was slammed and locked behind them. At first, owing to their sudden entrance out of intensely bright day, they seemed to be in profound darkness, but when they became accustomed to the dim light, they found that they were in the presence of several powerful men, who carried long Eastern-like pistols in their girdles, and curved naked swords in their hands. These stood like statues against the wall of the small room, silently awaiting the orders of one whose dress betokened⁶ him of superior rank, and who was engaged in writing with a reed in Persian characters. A tall, very black-skinned negro stood beside this officer.

 

After a few minutes the latter laid down the reed, rose up, and confronted the prisoners, at the same time addressing some remark to his attendant.

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