As soon as the white slaves recognized Bo Muzem, they all rushed forward to meet him.

"Speak, Krooman!" exclaimed Harry. "Ask him if the money for our ransom will be paid? If so, we are free, and they dare not sell us again."

"Here,—here!" exclaimed Bill, pointing to one of the Arabs who came with Bo Muzem. "Ax this man where be brother Jim an' Master Terence?"

Harry and Colin turned towards the man from whom Bill desired this inquiry to be made, and recognized in him the grazier, to whom Terence and Jim had been sold.

The Krooman had no opportunity for putting the question; for Bo Muzem, on drawing near to the gate of the town, had allowed his passion to mount into a violent rage; and as he beheld the slaves, shouted out, "Christian dogs! you have deceived me. Let every man, woman, and child, in this town assemble, and be witnesses of the fate that this lying Christian so richly deserves. Let all witness the death of this young infidel, who has falsely declared he has an uncle in Swearah, named 'For God's sake buy us.' Let all witness the revenge Bo Muzem will take on the unbelieving dog who has deceived him."

As soon as Bo Muzem's tongue was stopped sufficiently to enable him to hear the voices of those around him, he was informed that the slaves were all sold,—the nephew of "For God's sake buy us," among the rest, and on better terms than he and his partners had expected to get at Swearah.

Had Harry Blount been rescued, Bo Muzem would have been much pleased at this news; but he now declared that his partners had no right to sell without his concurrence,—that he owned an interest in them; and that the one who had deceived him should not be sold, but should suffer the penalty incurred, by sending him on his long and fruitless journey.

Rais Mourad now came upon the ground. The Moor was not long in comprehending all the circumstances connected with the affair. He ordered his followers to gather around the white slaves and escort them outside the walls of the town.

Bo Muzem attempted to prevent this order from being executed. He was opposed by everybody, not only by the Moor, but his own partners, as well as the sheik of the town, who declared that there should be no blood spilled among those partaking of his hospitality.

The slaves were mounted on the horses that had been provided for them, and then conducted through the gateway leaving Bo Muzem half frantic with impotent rage.

There was but one man to sympathize with him in his disappointment, the grazier to whom Terence and Jim had been sold, and who had made arrangements for the purchase of the others.

Riding up to the Moor, this man declared that the slaves were his property; that he had purchased them the day before, and had given four horses and ten dollars in money for each.

He loudly protested against being robbed of his property, and declared that he would bring two hundred men, if necessary, for the purpose of taking possession of his own.

Rais Mourad, paying no attention to this threat, gave orders to his followers to move on; and, although it was now almost night, started off in the direction of Santa Cruz.

Before they had proceeded far, they perceived the Arab grazier riding at full speed in the opposite direction, and towards his own home.

"I wish that we had made some inquiries of that fellow about Jim and Terence," said Colin; "but it's too late now."

"Yes, too late," echoed Harry, "and I wish that he had obtained possession of us instead of our present master. We should then have all come together again. But what are we to think of this last turn of Fortune's wheel?"

"I am rather pleased at it," answered Colin. "A while ago we were in despair, because the Moor had bought us. That was a mistake. If he had not done so, you Harry would have been killed."

"Bill!" added the young Scotchman, turning to the old sailor, "what are you dreaming about?"

"Nothing," answered Bill, "I'm no goin to drame or think any mair."

"We ah gwine straight for Swearah," observed the Krooman as he spoke, glancing towards the northwest.

"That is true," exclaimed Harry, looking in the same direction. "Can it be that we are to be taken into the empire of Morocco? If so, there is hope for us yet."

"But Bo Muzem could find no one who would pay the money for our ransom," interposed Colin.

"He nebba go thar," said the Krooman. "He nebba had de time."

"I believe the Krooman is right," said Harry. "We have been told that Mogador is four days' journey from here, and the Arab was gone but six days."

The conversation of the slaves was interrupted by the Moors, who kept constantly urging them to greater speed.

The night came on very dark, but Rais Mourad would not allow them to move at a slower pace.

Sailor Bill, being as he declared unused to "navigate any sort o' land craft," could only keep his seat on the animal he bestrode, by allowing it to follow the others, while he clutched its mane with a firm grasp of both hands.

The journey was continued until near midnight, when the old sailor, unable any longer to endure the fatigue, managed to check the pace of his horse, and dismount.

The Moors endeavored to make him proceed, but were unsuccessful.

Bill declared that should he again be placed on the horse, he should probably fall off and break his neck.

This was communicated to Rais Mourad, who had turned back in a rage to inquire the cause of the delay. It was the Krooman who acted as interpreter.

The Moor's anger immediately subsided on learning that one of the slaves could speak Arabic.

"Do you and your companions wish for freedom?" asked the Moor, addressing himself to the Krooman.

"We pray for it every hour."

"Then tell that foolish man that freedom is not found here—that to obtain it he must move on with me."

The Krooman made the communication as desired.

"I don't want to hear any more about freedom," answered Bill; "I've 'eard enough ov it. If any on 'em is goin' to give us a chance for liberty, let 'em do it without so many promises."

The old sailor remained obstinate.

Neither entreaties nor threats could induce him to go farther; and Rais Mourad gave orders to his followers to halt upon the spot, as he intended to stay there for the remainder of the night. The halt was accordingly made, and a temporary camp established.

Although exhausted with their long, rough ride, Harry and Colin could not sleep. The hope of liberty was glowing too brightly within their bosoms.

This hope had not been inspired by anything that had been said or done by Rais Mourad; for they now placed no trust in the promises of any one.

Their hopes were simply based upon the belief that they were now going towards Mogador, that the Moor, their master, was an intelligent man—a man who might know that he would not lose his money by taking English subjects to a place where they would be sure of being ransomed.