“Death is the end of life; ah, why
    Should life all labor be? 
    Let us alone.”

And so the months went by, until at last a band of emissaries, to the number of seventy, was appointed to take a journey to Mecca for the purpose of meeting with Mohammed and discussing with him the advisability of his taking up his residence at Medina.

A herald brought news of this embassy to the prophet.  He went forth to meet them, and Yusuf, hearing by chance of the appointed conference, set out posthaste after Mohammed’s party, eager to get even a pressure of the hand from Amzi, his heart’s brother, who he felt sure would accompany the emissaries.  In order to overtake them more quickly, he proceeded with a trusty guide by a shorter route across the hills.

The night was exceptionally dark, and even the guide became confused.  The way led on and on between the interminable hills, until the two in complete uncertainty reined their steeds on the verge of a cliff that seemed to overhang a deep and narrow basin, bounded by flinty rock which even in the darkness loomed doubly black, and which rang beneath the horses’ feet with that peculiar, metallic sound that proclaimed it black basalt, the “hell-stone” of the Arabs.

It was indeed an eerie spot.  A thick fringe of thorny shrubs grew along the edge of the cliff; at intervals yawned deep fissures, across which the wise little Arabian ponies stepped gingerly; and above, outlined in intense black against the dark sky, were numerous peaks and pinnacles and castellated summits, such as the Arabs love to people with all manner of genii and evil spirits of the waste and silent wilderness.  It was a spot likely to be infested with robbers, and Yusuf and his guide waited in some trepidation while considering what to do.

[Illustration:  “Hold!” cried a voice from the air above.—­See page 34.]

Presently a dull trampling sounded in the distance.  It came nearer and nearer, and the two lone wanderers on the cliff scarcely dared to breathe.

The tread of camels was soon discernible, the “Ikh!  Ikh!” (the sound used to make camels kneel) of the camel-drivers rising from the dark pass below to the ears of the men above.  Apparently the party was about to make a halt in the dark basin; and should it prove to be a band of hill-robbers, Yusuf and his companion were in a precarious position, for the slightest sound made by them or their ponies would probably prove the signal for an onslaught; but by patting and quieting the animals, they managed to keep their restlessness in check and so waited, scarcely knowing what to do next.

Ere ten minutes had elapsed, however, the tread of camels was again heard, and another party came in from the opposite direction, halting at the other end of the ravine.  A call was sounded and at once answered by the body immediately below.  The new-comers advanced, and mutual recognitions seemed to take place, although Yusuf could distinguish neither the voices nor the words.