reat noise around us in the
darkness, whining, howling, and even scrabbling at the stable door. At
length, in desperation, he resolved to kill him.

One night, when all the village was asleep, we lay out on the balcony
with guns and waited. After a while the shadow of a dog slinking among
the olive trees was seen. We fired. The village and the mountains
echoed; fowls clucked, dogs barked; we even fancied that we heard the
cries of men. We expected the whole commune to rise up against us; but
after a short time of waiting all was still again.

Rashid, out in the shadows, whispered: 'He is nice and fat,' as if he
thought that we were going to eat the dog.

'And is he dead?' I asked.

'Completely dead,' was the reply.

'Then get a cord and hang him to the balcony,' said my companion. 'His
odour will perhaps attract the foxes.'

Another minute and the corpse was hanging from the balcony, while we
lay out and waited, talking in low tones.

The bark of foxes came from vineyards near at hand, where there were
unripe grapes. 'Our vines have tender grapes,' our host repeated;
making me think of the fable of the fox and the grapes, which I
related to Rashid in Arabic as best I could. He laughed as he
exclaimed:

'Ripe grapes, thou sayest? Our foxes do not love ripe grapes and
seldom steal them. I assure you, it was sour grapes that the villain
wanted, and never did they seem so exquisitely sour as when he found
out that he could not reach them. How his poor mouth watered!'

This was new light upon an ancient theme for us, his hearers.

After an hour or two of idle waiting, when no foxes came, we went to
bed, forgetting all about the hanging dog.

The house was close beside a carriage road which leads down from the
chief town of the mountains to the city, passing many villages. As it
was summer, when the wealthy citizens sleep in the mountain villages
for coolness' sake, from the dawn onward there was a downward stream
of carriages along that road. When the daylight became strong enough
for men to see distinctly, the sight of a great brown and white dog
hanging from our balcony, and slowly turning, struck terror in the
breasts of passers-by. Was it a sign of war, or some enchantment?
Carriage after carriage stopped, while its inhabitants attempted to
explore the mystery. But there was nobody about to answer questions.
My host and I, Rashid as well, were fast asleep indoors. Inquirers
looked around them on the ground,