“Barung the Sultan tear his clothes too, and say—­’Run away, Fung,’ and my half-wife, she tear her clothes and say nothing, but run like antelope.  So they all run toward east, where great river is, and leave me alone.  Then I get up and run too—­toward west, for I know from Black Windows,” and he pointed to Higgs, “when we shut up together in belly of god before he let down to lions, what all this game mean, and therefore not frightened.  Well, I run, meeting no one in night, till I come to pass, run up it, and find guards, to whom I tell story, so they not kill me, but let me through, and at last I come here, quite safe, without Fung wife, thank God, and that end of tale.”

“I am afraid you are wrong there, my boy,” I said, “out of the frying-pan into the fire, that’s all.”

“Out of frying-pan into fire,” he repeated.  “Not understand; father must remember I only little fellow when Khalifa’s people take me, and since then speak no English till I meet Black Windows.  Only he give me Bible-book that he have in pocket when he go down to be eat by lions.”  (Here Higgs blushed, for no one ever suspected him, a severe critic of all religions, of carrying a Bible in his pocket, and muttered something about “ancient customs of the Hebrews.”)

“Well,” went on Roderick, “read that book ever since, and, as you see, all my English come back.”

“The question is,” said Higgs, evidently in haste to talk of something else, “will the Fung come back?”

“Oh!  Black Windows, don’t know, can’t say.  Think not.  Their prophecy was that Harmac move to Mur, but when they see his head jump into sky and stop there, they run every man toward the sunrise, and I think go on running.”

“But Harmac has come to Mur, Roderick,” I said; “at least his head has fallen on to the cliff that overlooks the city.”

“Oh! my father,” he answered, “then that make great difference.  When Fung find out that head of Harmac has come here, no doubt they come after him, for head his most holy bit, especially as they want hang all the Abati whom they not like.”

“Well, let’s hope that they don’t find out anything about it,” I replied, to change the subject.  Then taking Roderick by the hand I led him to where Maqueda stood a yard or two apart, listening to our talk, but, of course, understanding very little of it, and introduced him to her, explaining in a few words the wonderful thing that had happened.  She welcomed him very kindly, and congratulated me upon my son’s escape.  Meanwhile, Roderick had been staring at her with evident admiration.  Now he turned to us and said in his quaint broken English: 

“Walda Nagasta most lovely woman!  No wonder King Solomon love her mother.  If Barung’s daughter, my wife, had been like her, think I run through great river into rising sun with Fung.”

Oliver instantly translated this remark, which made us all laugh, including Maqueda herself, and very grateful we were to find the opportunity for a little innocent merriment upon that tragic night.