All breathless he at last reached the caravan.  “Is Abu Sofian here?” he cried.

“I am Abu Sofian,” said the sturdy old chief.  “What do you desire of me?”

“I have been sent by Amzi the benevolent,” returned the other.  “He bids me say to Abu Sofian that it will be well for the caravan to advance with the greatest caution, as Mohammed and his forces are in ambush on the way.”

“What guarantee have I,” said Abu Sofian, “that you are truly from Amzi the Meccan, and not an emissary of Mohammed sent to entrap us into some narrow glen?”

“Here is your guarantee,” replied the stranger, stretching forth his hand.  “Recognize you not this ring?”

“It is well,” answered Abu Sofian, satisfied.  “We are much beholden to you and to our friend Amzi, who we had feared was but too good a friend to this same Mohammed.”

“Can you trust Amzi?” asked one near, anxiously.

“As my own soul,” returned the leader.  “Amzi’s heart is gold; Amzi’s words are jewels of purest luster.  He speaks truth.”  Then to the messenger, “Know you what route Mohammed will take?”

“I know not.  He has, doubtless, spies, who will inform him of your movements, and thus enable him to act accordingly.”

“Then it remains for us to meet him by his own tactics,” said Abu Sofian, “and no time is to be lost.  You, Omair my faithful, speed to Mecca with what dispatch you may.  Go by the by-paths which you know so well.  Tell Abu Jahl, whom I have left in charge, to send us help quickly.”

Omair made obeisance and left at once.

“You, Akab and Zimmah,” continued the leader, “go by the hills ahead and find out what you can.  As for us, we will keep our lips closed and our eyes and ears open.  Abu Sofian is not yet so old that he has forgotten the signs of the wilderness.”

The vast procession moved on again slowly and in a dead silence, broken only by the trampling of the beasts and the moans of the camels.

Presently, on coming near a spot which might be deemed hazardous ground, Abu Sofian ordered a halt and went forward himself, alone and on foot.  With eye on the alert, ear on a tension to catch the slightest sound, and body bent downward to facilitate the closest scrutiny of the ground, the keen old man proceeded slowly, stepping with cat-like precision and quietness.

Suddenly he uttered an exclamation.  A small object lay dark on the yellow sand.  He picked it up.  It was a date-stone.  He examined it closely.  It was slightly smaller than the stones of the ordinary fruit.

“A Medina date!” he exclaimed; “whoever has thrown it there!”

Going a few paces further, he found several similar ones thrown by the wayside.  The trampling of the sand, too, showed that a considerable force had been on the road at no distant time.

He bent down again and directed his keen scrutiny on the road, then retraced his steps for a short distance.  There were tracks pointing in both directions, but at one point the company seemed to have turned.