The muezzin call to sunset prayer in the Arab village came to him clear and sharp, while he sat there, unutterably lonely.  Why had that smile so moved him?  Other death smiles had been like this evening smile on the desert hills—­a glowing peace, a promise of heaven.  But the boy’s smile had said:  ’Waste no breath on me—­you cannot help.  Who knows—­who knows?  I have no hope, no faith; but I am adventuring.  Good-bye!’ Poor boy!  He had braved all things, and moved out uncertain, yet undaunted!  Was that, then, the uttermost truth, was faith a smaller thing?  But from that strange notion he. recoiled with horror.  ’In faith I have lived, in faith I will die!’ he thought, ‘God helping me!’ And the breeze, ruffling the desert sand, blew the grains against the palms of his hands, outstretched above the warm earth.