The voice was soft, even purring; but the grisly names of the brutes caused Ezra to shudder.

Obediently the animals turned and leaped into the enclosure once more. And as they passed their master, Ezra noted that they crouched and fawned.

“Only beaten dogs do that,” thought the boy. Then, as he surveyed the man carefully, “I wonder just how much of this gentleness is real and how much assumed?”

As the mastiffs vanished behind the house, the man turned to Ezra once more.

“The road is seldom frequented,” said he, apologetically; “and so, poor beasts, they are not accustomed to travelers.” The soft, dark eyes examined Ezra with much attention; then the speaker went on, “I sincerely trust that you have taken neither harm nor offense.”

“Not in the least,” replied Ezra readily. “My horse was a bit startled; but that is all.”

Instantly the dark eyes went to the horse; its weary condition seemed to excite the stranger’s sympathy.

“You have ridden far?” said he, gently.

“From Cambridge,” replied Ezra. “But it has taken several days.”

“And you are going——?” Here the other paused with undoubted expectancy.

“Toward Chelmsford,” replied Ezra.

The man seemed baffled; he passed one hand over his shining bald head as though in meditation. But the singular dark eyes never left the boy’s face.

“This is rather an unusual way to select,” he said at last. “Rough and indirect.”

“Perhaps so,” said Ezra. “But I had some small matters of business hereabouts.”

An eager look came into the man’s face; he held up one hand with an inquiring gesture.

“You were to ask for some one?” said he.

“Yes. For a gentleman of the name of Abdallah.”

“I am he,” said the other humbly. “Abdallah—son of Hamid—a poor scholar, and a friend to all the world.”

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