Night has come. The sheik is sleeping soundly on his mat in the
first apartment of the tent, and Butheita on her cushions in the
inner apartment. Deep silence prevails, interrupted only from time
to time by the desert-wind as it sweeps across the plain and shakes
the stakes of the tent, and makes the white canvas swe11 out.
Surely it was only the wind that now raised the curtain and made the
canvas rustle. But it does not awaken the sheik; he is accustomed to
such sounds, and sleeps so quietly that he does not see the shadow
that glides cautiously into the tent, and creeps to where he lies
sleeping. Without, stands another man, holding up the curtain to
enable the first to see his way.
The moon throws a ray of light into the tent, and with a quick bound
the man is beside the sheik, and binds his hands and feet. The sheik
is now aroused; he opens his lips to utter a cry, but a wooden gag,
is thrust into his mouth. He can neither cry out nor move; he lies
there perfectly helpless, looking up wrathfully at the enemy who is
treating him so shamefully.
The robber's face is masked, and he can not recognize him. But a
robber he assuredly is; yes, a robber who is searching for treasure,
and who well knows that the sheik possesses several little chests
filled with gold-pieces, jewelry, and precious stones, and who also
knows that they are kept within in Butheita's apartment.
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