"Good horse," said the sheik, patting the dark-brown cheek.
"Good horse, good-morning." Turning then to Ben-Hur, he added,
"This is Sirius, father of the four here. Mira, the mother,
awaits our return, being too precious to be hazarded in a region
where there is a stronger hand than mine. And much I doubt," he
laughed as he spoke--"much I doubt, O son of Arrius, if the tribe
could endure her absence. She is their glory; they worship her;
did she gallop over them, they would laugh. Ten thousand horsemen,
sons of the desert, will ask to-day, 'Have you heard of Mira?' And
to the answer, 'She is well,' they will say, 'God is good! blessed
be God!'"
"Mira--Sirius--names of stars, are they not, O sheik?" asked
Ben-Hur, going to each of the four, and to the sire, offering his
hand.
"And why not?" replied Ilderim. "Wert thou ever abroad on the
desert at night?"
"No."
"Then thou canst not know how much we Arabs depend upon the stars.
We borrow their names in gratitude, and give them in love. My fathers
all had their Miras, as I have mine; and these children are stars
no less. There, see thou, is Rigel, and there Antares; that one is
Atair, and he whom thou goest to now is Aldebaran, the youngest
of the brood, but none the worse of that--no, not he! Against
the wind he will carry thee till it roar in thy ears like Akaba;
and he will go where thou sayest, son of Arrius--ay, by the glory
of Solomon! he will take thee to the lion's jaws, if thou darest
so much.
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