"He will not return," said one of them, with a shake of the head and
a sad look.
"He is lost!" sighed another.
"And you boys are to blame for it!" cries a third, turning to the
group who stood near the men, closely wrapped in their brown cloaks,
the hoods pulled down over their eyes.
"Why did you encourage him to undertake so daring a feat?" cried a
fourth, pointing threateningly toward the boys.
"It is not our fault, Sheik Emir," said one of them, defiantly; "he
would do so."
"Mohammed always was proud and haughty," exclaimed another. "We told
him that a storm was coming, and that we would go home. But he
wouldn't, sheik."
"That is to say," said the sheik, angrily--"that is to say, you have
been ridiculing the poor boy again?"
"He is always so proud, and thinks himself something better than the
rest of us," murmured the boy, "though he is something worse, and
may some day be a beggar if--"
The storm now began to rage more furiously; the waves towered
higher, and threw their spray far on to the shore and high upon the
rock, as though determined to make known its dread majesty to the
inhabitants of the city of Cavalla, which stands with its little
houses, narrow streets, and splendid mosque, on the plateau of the
rock of Bucephalus. On the summit of the rock a woman is kneeling,
her hands extended imploringly toward heaven; she has allowed the
white veil to fall from her face, and her agonized features are
exposed to view, regardless of the law that permits her to reveal
her countenance in the harem only.
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