lah give thee
greatness upon thy greatness!"

"God prosper thee also, Abou Seti, and see that thou keep only what is
thine own henceforth. Get thee gone in peace."

"At what hour shall I see the face of my son alive?" asked Abou Seti in
a low voice, placing his hand upon his turban in humility.

"To-morrow at even, when the Muezzin calls from the mosque of El Hassan,
be thou at the west wall of the prison by the Gate of the Prophet's
Sorrow, with thy fastest camel. Your son shall ride for me through the
desert even to Farafreh, and bear a letter to the bimbashi there. If he
bear it safely, his life is his own; if he fail, look to thy feddans of
land!"

"God is merciful, and Seti is bone of my bone," said Abou Seti, and laid
his hand again upon his turban. That was how Mahommed Seti did not at
once pay the price of the grindstone, but rode into the desert bearing
the message of the Mudir and returned safely with the answer, and was
again seen in the cafes of Manfaloot. And none of Ebn Haroun's friends
did aught, for the world knew through whom it was that Seti lived--and
land was hard to keep in Manfaloot and the prison near.

But one day a kavass of the Khedive swooped down on Manfaloot, and
twenty young men were carried off in conscription. Among them was Seti,
now married to Ahassa, the fellah maid for whom the grindstone had
fallen on Ebn Haroun's head. When the fatal number fell to him and
it was ordained that he must go to Dongola to serve in the Khedive's
legions, he went to his father, with Ahassa wailing behind him.

"Save thyself," said the old man with a frown.

"I have done what I could--I have sold my wife's jewels," answered Seti.

"Ten piastres!" said old Abou Seti grimly.

"Twelve," said Seti, grinning from ear to ear. "Thou wilt add four
feddans of land to that I will answer for the Mudir."

"Thy life only cost me two feddans. Shall I pay four to free thee of
serving thy master the Khedive? Get thee gone into the Soudan. I do not
fear for thee: thou wilt live on. Allah is thy friend. Peace be with
thee!"

II

So it was that the broad-shouldered Seti went to be a soldier, with
all the women of the village wailing behind him, and Ahassa his wife
covering her head with dust and weeping by his side as he stepped out
towards Dongola. For himself, Seti was a philosopher; that is to say,
he was a true Egyptian. Whatever was, was to be; and Seti had a good
digestion, which is a great thing in th