“You did. You said so. Habib said so also. Was there any report here in Cairo that we could not go up.”
“Mashallah. Such news. The boat was lost in the cataract; the reïs was drowned. For the loss of the boat I did not care; only if you were safe.”
“Did you hear that the cataract reises objected to take us up?”
“What rascals! They always make the traveler some trouble. But, Allah forgive us all, the head reïs is dead. Not so, Abd-el-Atti?”
“What, the old reïs that we said good-bye to only a little while ago at Assouan?”
“Him dead,” says Abd-el-Atti. “I have this morning some conversation with a tradin' boat from the Cataract. Him dead shortly after we leave.”
It was the first time it had ever occurred to me that one of these tough old Bedaween could die in the ordinary manner.
But alas his spirit was too powerful for his frame. We have not in this case the consolation of feeling that his loss is our gain; for there are plenty more like him at the First Cataract. He took money from Aboo Yusef for not taking us up the Cataract, and he took money from us for taking us up. His account is balanced. He was an impartial man. Peace to his colored ashes.
Aboo Yusef and the little Jew took leave with increased demonstrations of affection, and repeated again and again their joy that we had ascended the Cataract and returned safe. The Jew, as I said, had a furtive look, but Aboo is open as the day. He is an Arab you would trust. I can scarcely believe that it was he and his partner who sent the bribe to the reïs of the Cataract to prevent our going up.
As we ride to town through the new part, the city looks exceedingly bright and attractive; the streets are very broad; the handsome square houses—ornamented villas, with balconies, pillared piazzas, painted with lively figures and in bizarre patterns—stand behind walls overgrown with the convolvulus, and in the midst of gardens; plats in the center of open spaces and at the angles of streets are gay with flowers in bloom—chiefly scarlet geraniums. The town wears a spring aspect, and would be altogether bright but for the dust which overlays everything, houses, streets, foliage. No amount of irrigation can brighten the dust-powdered trees.