answered. "I don't know certainly. I think he wish to take Mr. Tinker to meet the Bey of Tunis."
"Who's he?"
"The Bey? Well, he is suppose' to be the ruler of this country," the courier explained. "That is to say, he governs it excellently under the advice of the French. But he has his own army, you see, and most of it is taking care of Mr. Tinker to-day, I think. Look! He sees us!"
The cavalcade had passed down the length of the veranda; but Tinker, conscious of the eyes upon him from on high, looked back over his shoulder and communicated with the friendly watchers by means of a wink easily visible at the distance. Not feeling this to be sufficient, however, he stood up, removed his hat and waved it sweepingly. Then, with the strange security against being understood that foreign soil affords so many of his compatriots, in the use of their native tongue, he employed a bit of street currency from home to express his evidently jocular sentiments. "Good-bye, folks!" he bellowed at the top of his big voice. "I don't know where I'm goin', but I'm on my way!"
"I do wonder," Mrs. Tinker said fretfully, "what that Bey, or whoever he is, wants of him."
