Rob shook his head to indicate
that he could not understand; so they led him to the chief--an immense,
bearded representative of the tribe of Kara-Khitai, the terrible and
relentless Black Tatars of Thibet. The huge frame of this fellow was
clothed in flowing robes of cloth-of-gold, braided with jewels,
and he sat majestically upon the back of a jet-black camel.
Under ordinary circumstances the stern features and flashing black
eyes of this redoubtable warrior would have struck a chill of fear to
the boy's heart; but now under the influence of the crushing
misfortunes he had experienced, he was able to gaze with indifference
upon the terrible visage of the desert chief.
The Tatar seemed not to consider Rob an enemy. Instead, he looked
upon him as an ally, since the Turks had bound and robbed him.
Finding it impossible to converse with the chief, Rob took refuge in
the sign language. He turned his pockets wrong side out, showed the
red welts left upon his wrists by the tight cord, and then shook his
fists angrily in the direction of the town.
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