“Whither goest thou?” asked Muhammed of his guest, when at last he had leisure for conversation.
“To Damashc-ush-Shâm,” replied Saïd, and hesitated. He dared not tell the true reason of his leaving home, lest he should forfeit the esteem of his hearers. A man who bewails his misfortunes before strangers is a fool and rightly despised; but he who exalts himself is sure of honour. He added—
“I go to Es-Shâm, to the house of my brother, who is dead. He was a great man and rich. Moreover, his woman was barren. I go to claim the inheritance.”
The murmur of congratulation which this fiction called forth had scarcely died away when a clatter of hoofs rang through the village. Faint shouts and cries came from the distant field where the women were at work.
“The soldiers! The soldiers are upon us!” cried Hasneh from her post at the threshold.
Every man sprang to his feet and rushed to the door, Saïd with the rest. Five Turkish soldiers and a young officer rode at a foot’s pace up the narrow path between the hovels. Remembering the words which Abdullah had spoken that morning, Saïd’s teeth chattered. Doubtless the Pasha was informed of his flight and these men had been sent to take him.
“Where is the house of the sheykh of the village?” cried the officer as he rode by.
A score of turbaned heads were bowed, a score of brown hands saluted, and a score of voices proffered directions in divers tones of self-abasement. Saïd was reassured. Had the officer been looking for him he would not surely have asked for the house of the sheykh. The next moment his heart sank again and a cry of dismay broke from his lips. One of the troopers, in passing, bent down, and, severing the cord by which the donkey was tethered with one stroke of a knife, caught the end deftly as it fell, and rode on, leading with him all that remained of Saïd’s worldly goods. With a shriek of rage and despair, the wretched man broke through the crowd and sprang forth into the blinding sunlight. A few fierce bounds and he had overtaken the plunderer. He strove to wrest the rope from his grasp.
“Stay! Stay!” he cried. “Let me but take off the sacks! It is all that I have!”
For answer he received a blow on the wrist which forced him to quit hold.
“Pig!” cried the soldier, angrily. “The Sultàn has need of thy beast for his soldiers; and I that am his soldier have need of those sacks for myself. Dost understand? Let go, son of a dog!”
Saïd, baffled in his design upon the rope, was now struggling frantically to wrench the sacks from the donkey’s back.
The cavalcade had come to a standstill before the house of the sheykh, and the other soldiers looked on good-humouredly, laughing now at their comrade, now at the fisherman, with perfect impartiality. Their laughter stung the plunderer to frenzy. He unslung the carbine from his back, and, leaning over the saddlebow, dealt a vicious blow at Saïd’s head with the butt of it. The daylight swam bloodred before the fisherman’s eyes. His head seemed to dilate and there was a singing in his ears. He fell forward, senseless, upon the ground.
V
When Saïd again became conscious of his surroundings he was in the house of Muhammed abu Hassan, lying on a couch. Hasneh and another woman were bending over him. The latter drew her veil hastily across her face as his eyes blinked at her in bewilderment. Hasneh uttered a cry of delight.
Saïd looked about him wondering. Sullen, scowling faces filled the doorway, blotting out the sunlight. A sound of muttered oaths was in the room. Of a sudden he remembered all that had befallen him and staggered to his feet.
“I am ruined!” he cried. “They have taken my donkey—all that I have. May Allah cut short their lives.”
Responsive curses came from the group in the doorway, and Muhammed replied—
“We are sad for thee, effendi. The journey to Es-Shâm is long and wearisome for one that goes on foot. Yet art thou more happy than we. Thou wilt have the inheritance of thy brother who is dead. Thou wilt have wealth wherewith to buy horses and asses, as many as thou needest. But they have taken all that was ours. Curse their father! Of all our beasts there remain but a camel, and a mule which is on the point of dying.”
Saïd’s hand was pressed to his forehead. His face had the inward look of one reviewing things past. At length he asked eagerly, “What is the hour?”
“It is near the third hour since noon,” replied Muhammed after a brief glance at the shadow of his dwelling.
The fisherman turned to his woman. “Ready, O Hasneh?” he asked.
“Ready” was the meek rejoinder.
“But thou art yet weak from the blow which the soldier—burn his house!—gave thee,” Muhammed, as host, was bound to protest. “My house is thy house. Rest here till evening. The first hours of night are pleasant for travelling.”
But Saïd, remembering the words of Abdullah, was resolute. Pursuers might come upon him at any time. With profusion of thanks to Muhammed for his kindness he took up his staff and set out once more. Hasneh followed, her bundle poised upon her head.
They passed out from the village down a steep slope, where big red anemones shone amid ragged grass, across a stony wady with a trickle of water among the pebbles, and entered a grove of olive-trees. Here Saïd lay down in the shade. He was still dizzy from the stunning blow he had received, and the strength seemed to run out of his legs. He complained bitterly of thirst; whereupon Hasneh produced those oranges which had been thrown at them in the morning from the bosom of her robe. Having devoured two of them, Saïd wiped his dripping
