pa, with his interest in unspoiled towns. I will thank
you to issue no more letters to the Father of Swords without remembering
me. Do you wish to enrich the already overstocked British Museum at my
expense? But I do not mind revealing to you that I am now really on my
way to Mohamera."

"H'm," let out Ganz slowly. "My dear fellow, haven't you heard that
there is a war in Europe?"

"I must confess, my good Ganz, that I have. But what has Europe to do
with Mohamera?"

"God knows," said Ganz. "I should think, however, since you are so far
from the Gulf, that you would prefer the route of Baghdad--now that
French and Russian cruisers are seeking whom they may devour."

"You forget, Mr. Ganz, that I am so fortunate as to possess a number of
valuable objects of virtue. I would think twice before attempting to
carry those objects of virtue through the country of our excellent
friends the Beni Lam Arabs!"

Ganz laughed.

"Your objects of virtue could very well be left with me. What if the
English should go into the war?"

"The English? Go into the war? Never fear! This is not their affair. And
if it were, what could they do? Sail their famous ships up the Rhine and
the Elbe? Besides, that treacherous memory of yours seems to fail you
again. This is Persia, not England."

"Perhaps," answered Ganz. "But the English are very funny people. There
is a rumor, you know, of pourparlers. What if you were to sail down to
the gulf and some little midshipman were to fire a shot across your
bow?"

"Ah, bah! I am a neutral! And Britannia is a fat old woman! Also a rich
one, who doesn't put her hand into her pocket to please her neighbors.
Besides, I have a little affair with the Sheikh of Mohamera--objects of
virtue, indigo, who knows what? As you know, I am a versatile man." And
swinging around on his stool, Magin began to play again.

"But even fat old women sometimes know how to bite," objected Ganz.

"Not when their teeth have dropped out," Magin threw over his
shoulder--"or when strong young men plug their jaws!"

VI

Two days later, or not quite three days later, the galley and the
motor-boat whose accidental encounter brought about the events of this
narrative met again. This second meeting took place in the Karun, as
before, but at a point some fifty or sixty miles below Bund-i-Kir. And
now the moon, not the sun, cast its paler glitter between the high dark
banks of the stream. It was a keen-eared young Lur who fi