make it more supple, and afterwards tried again; but I did not succeed much better this time; I could only pull the string a couple of inches in front of my nose.

When I found that this was the case, I lost my temper and sat down on a stone, where I covered my face with my hands, and burst into tears. All at once I felt some one touch me on the shoulder, and when I looked up I saw in front of me a man, whose approach I had not heard. The man was mounted on a splendid dappled horse, and dressed in a coarse leather tunic; his cap was made of black foxskin, and his belt was ornamented with studs and stars of silver. His bow was hanging at his side, and a short sabre with a straight, broad blade, and a horn hilt incrusted with silver, was fastened to his belt. His whip, with its silvermounted handle, was fastened to his saddle-bow, and he began patting Saïn Boughouroul's nostrils, who seemed to recognize him and be delighted to see him.

The face of the unknown was the most extraordinary one that I had ever seen. It inspired awe and respect, even to a greater extent than Keuktche's. His complexion was very fair, and his nose a very long one. His brown moustache was twisted slightly upwards, and showed the corners of his mouth. But the features which struck one at once in his face were the forehead and the eyes. The former was broad and majestic, and the eyebrows seemed to impart an air of authority. His eyes were large, and had a strange expression: their colour was grey with a tawny tinge, like the eyes of eagles, tigers, and lions. When he directed these awe-inspiring eyes towards one, they seemed

to search one's very heart; it seemed as if his piercing glance were laying bare all the secrets of my mind, and that I could not possibly tell a lie in the presence of those eyes, nor disobey their injunctions. Every movement of the man, moreover, conveyed an idea of power and authority, and resembled in their calm decision the eagle as he hovers in the air, or the lion as he stalks in majesty over the plain.

He spoke to me in a gentle voice, which was low in its pitch, but ever and anon broke forth in louder tones, like a trumpet which a person tries to play softly. I rose up, and crossing my arms in an attitude of respect, I bowed profoundly before him.

"My son," said he, "why are you crying?"

"My father," replied I, “I am crying because I am not strong enough to bend this bow of mine."

Strength comes from the heart, and passes into the arms," said the unknown. "Take your bow, and fit an arrow."

I obeyed. The unknown pointed to an eagle which was hovering over our heads.

"Shoot at that eagle," said he, " and bring it down."

"I can't," I answered, "I am not strong enough."

He looked me full in the face. I seemed to feel my breast expanding.

"Shoot, it is my will," continued he.

My arms seemed made of steel. I drew the string with one effort, then bent my wrist, and discharged my arrow. The string twanged, the bow quivered, the arrow cleft the

air, and the big eagle fell to the ground in a slanting direction, twenty paces from me, with outstretched wings.

The unknown did not say a single word. He gave his horse a sharp cut with his whip, sprang over a broad ditch, and disappeared on the plain. On his departure I prostrated myself nine times as I repeated the Tekbir; then grasping my bow I discharged a second arrow as easily as the first. I came to the conclusion that there was something extraordinary and miraculous about the unknown, and filled with admiration I plucked two feathers from the eagle's wing, and stuck them in my cap as a memorial of my adventure with the tawny-eyed horseman. Then I went and patted Saïn Boughouroul, who neighed right joyously.

A MOMENT afterwards I heard the sound of horses galloping, and Alak came back with his people. I had no time to tell him of my adventure, for scarcely had I begun to speak to him, when a horseman crossed the plain and advanced towards us. I recognized Djebe, the hero of Djissoud.

"Good day, my lads," said the young chief, as he pulled up his horse.

"Good day, valiant Djebe," replied we, as we bowed to him.

He seemed pleased to find that we knew his name. "Tell me, children of the Aroulad," he continued with a

smile, "can one of you inform me where I shall find Keuktche, the Great Saint? I do not know the road to the place where he is at present."

"I can show you," I answered, “and I can even lead you thither."

"All right," said Djebe, "take me to the sorcerer, for I must speak to him."

Whilst I was saddling and bridling Saïn Boughouroul, the chieftain was looking about him, and examining the herd. With a skilfully directed cut with his whip he flipped off a gad-fly which had alighted on the ribs of one of the animals.

"You have some splendid horses there," said he. "If you have such noble steeds as these to tend, you must be the son of a chief."

"I am the son of Baïsongar," said Alak, "and this boy is my brother."

"No," replied I quickly, "no, I am not. Alak only says so through kindness. I am a poor orphan, a stranger in receipt of hospitality. My family and my country are far from here."

Djebe looked at me attentively. I hid my face in my sleeve, so that he might not see the tears which started to

my eyes.

"Where is your country?" he said, "and who are your seven ancestors?"

"My yort is near the Issig Kul, and I am a Turk of the nation of the Eighurs, and of the tribe of the Baïane Aoul."