The Syrian asked leave to examine the youth, and was soon at his side.  Yusef very soon perceived that the Bedouin’s case was not hopeless,—­that God’s blessing on the hakeem’s skill might in a few days effect a wonderful change.  He offered to try what his art and medicines could do.  The Sheik caught at the last hope held out to him of preserving the life of his son.  The Bedouins gathered round, and watched with keen interest the measures which were at once taken by the stranger hakeem to effect the cure of the lad.

Yusef’s success was beyond his hopes.  The medicine which he gave afforded speedy relief from pain, and within an hour the young Bedouin had sunk into a deep and refreshing sleep.  His slumber lasted long, and he awoke quite free from fever, though of course some days elapsed before his strength was fully restored.

Great was the gratitude of Azim, the Sheik, for the cure of his only son; and great was the admiration of the simple Bedouins for the skill of the wondrous hakeem.  Yusef soon had plenty of patients.  The sons of the desert now looked upon the poor deserted stranger as one sent to them by heaven; and Yusef himself felt that his own plans had been defeated, his own course changed by wisdom and love.  He had intended, as a medical missionary, to fix his abode in some Arabian town:  he had been directed instead to the tents of the Bedouin Arabs.  The wild tribe soon learned to reverence and love him, and listen to his words.  Azim supplied him with a tent, a horse, a rich striped mantle, and all that the Syrian’s wants required.  Yusef found that he could be happy as well as useful in his wild desert home.

One day, after months had elapsed, Yusef rode forth with Azim and two of his Bedouins, to visit a distant encampment of part of the tribe.  They carried with them spear and gun, water, and a small supply of provisions.  The party had not proceeded far when Azim pointed to a train of camels that were disappearing in the distance.  “Yonder go pilgrims to Mecca,” he said:  “long and weary is the journey before them; the path which they take will be marked by the bones of camels that fall and perish by the way.”

“Methinks by yon sand-mound,” observed Yusef, “I see an object that looks at this distance like a pilgrim stretched on the waste.”

“Some traveler may have fallen sick,” said the Sheik, “and be left on the sand to die.”

The words made Yusef at once set spurs to his horse:  having himself so narrowly escaped a dreadful death in the desert, he naturally felt strong pity for any one in danger of meeting so terrible a fate.  Azim galloped after Yusef, and having the fleeter horse outstripped him, as they approached the spot on which lay stretched the form of a man, apparently dead.

As soon as Azim reached the pilgrim he sprang from his horse, laid his gun down on the sand, and, taking a skin-bottle of water which hung at his saddle bow, proceeded to pour some down the throat of the man, who gave signs of returning life.