tream of ice-cold water plunging down into
the valley in a fine cascade whose spray and murmur cooled the air.
That rush of water was the greatest luxury in such a land, and the
lord of the castle took much pride in its contrivance.

I went up to a door where soldiers and domestics lounged, but was
informed: 'Our lord is out of doors.' A soldier pointed to a bunch of
trees above the waterfall and overlooking the meydan, where many
notables in black frock coat and fez sat out on chairs. He ran on to
announce my coming. I was soon a member of the formal group, replying
to the usual compliments and kind inquiries.

Coffee was handed round. Then came a tray of different kinds of
sherbet, then a tray of eatables. The chiefs around me talked of
harvests and the price of land, but, most of all, of horses, since it
was a horsey day. The screaming of a stallion came persistently from
the meydan--a naughty screaming which foreboded mischief. I recognised
the voice. The culprit was my own Sheytan. The screams were so
disturbing, so indecent, that several of the great ones round me
frowned and asked: 'Whose horse is that?' in accents of displeasure.
I was ashamed to own him.

At length the lord of the castle called a servant to his side and
whispered, pointing with his hand in the direction whence the screams
proceeded. The servant hurried off, but presently returned and
whispered something in his master's ear. His master looked at me and
nodded gravely. He then addressed me in a deprecating tone, remarking:
'Your Honour's horse is too high-spirited; the crowd excites him. Will
you allow him to be tethered in some other place?'

From the excessive smoothness of his manner I could guess that, had I
been a native of the land, he would have told me to remove the vicious
brute and myself likewise. I rose at once to go and see to it.

'Pray do not give yourself the trouble!' he exclaimed, distressed.

The servant went along with me, and, when we got to the meydan, Rashid
came running. Sheytan was then indeed a terrifying sight, with
streaming tail, mane bristling, and a wicked bloodshot eye, tearing at
his head-rope, one minute pawing at the wall as if to climb it, the
next kicking wildly with his head down. I know little of horses in
general, but I knew that particular horse, and he knew me. I went up
quietly and talked to him, then loosed the rope and led Sheytan away
without much difficulty, Rashid meanwhile explaining to the s