The smoke ascended in thick, wispy streams, and hung in a ruddy cloud above the glare that lit up the courtyard and flashed over the water, showing three long canoes manned by many paddlers lying a little off; the men in them lifting their paddles on high and dipping them down together, in an easy stroke that kept the small flotilla motionless in the strong current, exactly abreast of the landing-place.
A man stood up in the largest craft and called out-- "Syed Abdulla bin Selim is here!" Babalatchi answered aloud in a formal tone-- "Allah gladdens our hearts! Come to the land!" Abdulla landed first, steadying himself by the help of Babalatchi's extended hand.

In the short moment of his passing from the boat to the shore they exchanged sharp glances and a few rapid words.
"Who are you ?" "Babalatchi.

The friend of Omar.

The protected of Lakamba." "You wrote ?" "My words were written, O Giver of alms!" And then Abdulla walked with composed face between the two lines of men holding torches, and met Lakamba in front of the big fire that was crackling itself up into a great blaze.

For a moment they stood with clasped hands invoking peace upon each other's head, then Lakamba, still holding his honoured guest by the hand, led him round the fire to the prepared seats.