go about begging from house to house, and then give the housebreakers
full information, whereupon the thieves, stripped almost naked, and
armed with swords and daggers, break into the house. One of them is
always told off to stand over the sleeping owner, and to give him his
quietus if he should attempt to rise, whilst the others ransack the
dwelling, and are off again as quickly as they came, to divide the
spoil. Whenever the cry of "El Harami" ("Thieves") is heard at night,
all sleep is banished, and a careful watch kept till morning.

Formerly watch-dogs were most useful to warn against housebreakers, but
the Khalifa decreed that they were impure animals, and forbade them to
be kept. Not a dog is now to be seen in the whole of Omdurman; but in
spite of this injunction, the Arabs living in the desert still keep
them. If one of these poor animals by chance strays into the town he is
at once pursued by a multitude armed with spears, shouting "Arian!"
("Naked!") and he is soon despatched.

A man called Zogheir--an Egyptian, born at Bara--became quite one of the
most celebrated of thieves. From an early age he was brought up to
steal, and became most skilful. To a strong constitution he added a
courage which was worthy of higher things. As head of a band of thieves
he led many a daring undertaking, and had the most wonderful knack of
always escaping all harm himself. On one occasion, when there were
scores of complaints made against him, he was sent to the lock-up of the
market. The sheikh es suk, who was at that time rather short of money,
promised to release the prisoners if they could collect fifty dollars
amongst them.

Zogheir agreed to get the money, and was given one hour's release from
prison. He at once went to the market, and very soon found a victim in
the person of a dammur (cloth) vendor, who had sold almost all his
goods, and sat with his purse full of money in front of him. Zogheir
seated himself down beside him, and started a conversation about the
cloth, which he began turning over piece by piece, and with great
dexterity he succeeded in seizing the purse, which he secreted under his
jibbeh. He then went off to the judge, to whom he presented the purse,
in which were seventy dollars, and then quietly returned to the lock-up,
and told his guard to again put his chains on.

The cloth merchant soon discovered the theft, rushed off madly to the
market court, and there represented that a thief--and it could