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"My good friend," said Rais Mourad, patronisingly speaking to Bo Muzem, "you have been deceived. Had you taken these Christians to Swearah, as you promised to do, you would have been paid for them all that you could reasonably have asked. I live in Swearah, and was obliged to make a long journey to the south upon urgent business.
One of the merchants, whose name was Bo Muzem, seemed inclined to listen with some favour to the representations of Harry; but he was overruled by the other two: so that all the young Englishman's assertions about the wealth of his parents at home, and the immense worth he and his comrades were to their country, as officers in its navy, failed to convince those to whom his words were addressed.
I will work them until they are too old for anything, and then let them die in a ditch." "Then buy the ones we have for sale," proposed Bo Muzem. "We are willing to sell them cheap, all but one. The man who wrote this letter I must kill. I have sworn it by the Prophet's beard."
After cautioning Bo Muzem to beware of the followers of Mahommed, who now lay dead at his feet, the Moor, placing himself at the head of his kafila, moved off in the direction of Mogador. The road followed by Rais Mourad on the day after leaving Santa Cruz was through a country of very uneven surface.
After crossing the spurs of the Atlas Mountains he reached, on the evening of the third day, a small walled town, within three hours' ride of the famed seaport of Mogador. Here he stopped for the night, intending to proceed to the city early on the next morning. Immediately on entering the town, Bo Muzem met a person whose face wore a familiar look.
Harry and Colin turned towards the man, from whom Bill desired this inquiry to be made, and recognised in him the grazier to whom Terence and Jim had been sold. The Krooman had no opportunity for putting the question; for Bo Muzem, on drawing near to the gate of the town, had allowed his passion to mount into a violent storm.
He was opposed by everybody, not only by by the Moor, but his own partners, as also the sheik of the town, who declared that there should be no blood spilt among those partaking of his hospitality. The slaves were now mounted on the horses that had been provided for them, and conducted through the gateway, leaving Bo Muzem half frantic with impotent rage.
Let all witness the death of a slave, who has falsely declared he has an uncle in Swearah, named `For-God's-sake-bias'. Let all witness the revenge Bo Muzem will take on the unbelieving dog who has deceived him."
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