mischief than a herd of wolves among the
surrounding hamlets, and their den came to
be called accordingly the Black Castle. The
robbers would sweep by in the night, like a
hot wind, from the desert, and leave everything
destroyed upon their track.

Now it so happened that the sheik of a
small mountain village, distant about half a
day's journey from the Black Castle, (Hamet
al Hassan was hrs name,) had a fair daughter,
the only child left to him by thirteen wives,
and she was named Lindora. Lindora means
light of the dawn; and the damsel was as
soft, and quiet, and delightful as her
godmother, Aurora. Necessarily she was, for is
she not the heroine of the legend that was
told us by the Moorish hunter under the
Black Castle's walls 1

Hamet, the father, for the sake of peace and
quietness, seeing how weak he was, paid a
black mail to Al Zagal, that was collected on
behalf of the castle, at fixed periods, by one
of the chiefs swarthy followers. It
happened that such a messenger one day chanced
to behold Lindora when she returned from
drawing water at the village well. " Son of
Al Hassan," said the envoy, " give me, I pray
thee, thy daughter to my wife, for the maid
finds favour in my sight. I will befriend thee
with my influence, and cause Al Zagal to
remit this tribute."—" Most worthy envoy of
the most noble Al Zagal," said the old man
in reply; " many have asked Lindora at my
hands in marriage, but she is betrothed to
Cedi Mohammed Ibn Amar, my brother's
son; and when he returns from fighting for
the Sultan I have promised that they shall
be wedded. So even the marriage gifts are
prepared against his coming. Woe is me!
I have said it."

But the same night, when the inmates of
that mountain hamlet were asleep, a strong
light fell upon their eyes, and shrieks and
war-cries fell upon their ears, and they awoke
to the slaughter, for the band of the Black
Castle had come down, and fired the village.
Young men fought, and women fled; but in
the morning the hamlet was a ruin far
behind the backs of the marauders, who drove
sheep and oxen on the way before them, and
with Lindora and her father in the middle of
their band, marched back to the Black Castle,
well content with the good stroke of business
they had done.

Several weeks after that night, a young
Moorish warrior, handsomely equipped,
attended by about a dozen lances, gallopped
up-hill towards the ruin of Al Hassan's
tents. He was an extremely handsome man,
you may be sure, because he is the hero of
the legend. Not having expected to find any
ruin on the spot, his first impression, when
he saw no tents, was, that his father's brother
must have struck them, and removed into
another neighbourhood. Soon, however, he
discovered marks of fire, and—by the beard
of the Prophet!—blood. Need I say that the
young man was Cedi Mohammed Ibn Amar,
and that his agony at this discovery was
dreadful? He sent his spears abroad in vain
for tidings, and then turned his own horse's
head towards Tetuan, the nearest town.

Lindora was at this time, of course, in the
Black Castle, imprisoned in a lonely tower.
The old man, too old to be sold as a slave,
would have been promptly despatched, if the
cries of Lindora for her father had not
suggested that his life and presence were essential
to the preservation of her beauty. The dark
envoy was most instrumental in the securing
of his safety, but Al Zagal having seen the
maiden, who had been seized for his envoy's
satisfaction, was desirous, of course, as the
dullest legend reader would perceive, to add
her to the roll of his own wives.

When Cedi Mohammed Ibn Amar,
knowing nothing of all this, reached Tetuan, he
went to the house of Al Hadj Halek Ibn
Abdallah, a famous marabout, and said
"Salaam on Aleekomm! Know, O holy man,
that I am come to thee for news, the odour of
which would be sweet unto my nostrils."
The wise man, having heard his question,
was able fortunately to return an answer.
And the youth said: " I will depart this hour
again to Fez, and throw myself at the feet
of the Prince of Believers to ask vengeance;
and it shall come to pass that he shall grant
me power to lead his warriors against Al
Zagal, destroy his castle, and deliver Lindora
from its walls; for the maiden loves me still,"
he added, looking at the hilt of his dagger,
in which a large opal glittered cheerfully.
"Tabeeb, farewell!"

Lindora was at that time in her lonely
tower, shrieking with but little intermission.
Al Zagal appeared on the battlements, and
leaning over, shouted to one of his followers:
"Asharky, place thyself at the head of a
score of lances, and ride the country through
till thou findest a Tabeeb, for the daughter of
Al Hassan is possessed." The Tabeeb who
was brought declared the maiden to be in
the delirium of fever; so thereafter Al Zagal,
who by no means desired that she should die,
frequently paced the battlements in a moody
way, invoking on her case the blessing of the
Prophet.

One day he was awakened from such a
reverie by the sound of distant tom-toms and
cymbals, and looking up he saw the royal
banner coming down the road from Fez.
Bright arms of warriors glittered about it,
and a dark crowd of country people, that had
joined with the great army of the Sultan,
was shouting his name: they were his debtors
from the surrounding country, now resolved
to take this advantageous opportunity of
paying him the little things they owed.
When the multitude had halted near the
castle walls, a single horseman spurred out
of the main body—a herald he was—
summoning Muley ben Abel, alias Al Zagal, to
surrender his castle and give up the prisoners