‘Ye’ll have to learn this and other things, sir,’ said he, as he crossed his own under him, Eastern fashion; but his demeanour was on the whole that of the fisher to the laird’s son, and he evidently thought that he had a grand proposal to make, for which Master Arthur ought to be infinitely obliged.

He explained to Arthur that Sheyk Abou Ben Zegri had never had more than two sons, and that both had been killed the year before in trying to recover their cattle from the Cabeleyzes, ’a sort of Hieland caterans.’

The girl whom Arthur had noticed was the widow of the elder of the two, and the child was only a daughter.  The sheyk had been much impressed by Arthur’s exploit in swimming or floating round the headland and saving the child, and regarded his height as something gigantic.  Moreover, Yusuf had asserted that he was son to a great Bey in his own country, and in consequence Abou Ben Zegri was willing to adopt him as his son, provided he would embrace the true faith, and marry Ayesha, the widow.

‘And,’ said Yusuf, ’these women are no that ill for wives, as I ken owre weel’—­and he sighed.  ’I had as gude and douce a wee wifie at Bona as heart culd wish, and twa bonny bairnies; but when I cam’ back frae my rounds, the plague had been there before me.  They were a’ gone, even Ali, that had just began to ca’ me Ab, Ab, and I hae never had heart to gang back to the town house.  She was a gude wife—­nae flying, nae rampauging.  She wad hae died wi’ shame to be likened to thae randy wives at hame.  Ye might do waur than tak’ such a fair offer, Maister Arthur.’

‘You mean it all kindly,’ said Arthur, touched; ’but for nothing—­no, for nothing, can a Christian deny his Lord, or yield up his hopes for hereafter.’

‘As for that,’ returned Yusuf, ’the meneester and Beacon Shortcoats, and my auld auntie, and the lave of them, aye ca’ed me a vessel of destruction.  That was the best name they had for puir Tam.  So what odds culd it mak, if I took up with the Prophet, and I was ower lang leggit to row in a galley?  Forbye, here they say that a man who prays and gies awmous, and keeps frae wine, is sicker to win to Paradise and a’ the houris.  I had rather it war my puir Zorah than any strange houri of them a’; but any way, I hae been a better man sin’ I took up wi’ them than ever I was as a cursing, swearing, drunken, fechting sailor lad wha feared neither God nor devil.’

‘That was scarce the fault of the Christian faith,’ said Arthur.

‘Aweel, the first answer in the Shorter Carritch was a’ they ever garred me learn, and that is what we here say of Allah.  I see no muckle to choose, and I ken ane thing,—­it is a hell on earth at ance gin ye gang not alang wi’ them.  And that’s sicker, as ye’ll find to your cost, sir, gin ye be na the better guided.’

‘With hope, infinite hope beyond,’ said Arthur, trying to fortify himself.  ‘No, I cannot, cannot deny my Lord—­my Lord that bought me!’