"Shall I not drink the coward's blood?" said Omar, struggling with Mahmoud, who was forcing him to sheath his dagger.
"What will you gain by that, or by eating him too? Curse the devil, and be friends; of all things I hate a revengeful temper; he is sorry for it."
"Who can stand such treatment?" said Omar, trying to swallow his rage. Eventually, after several relapses, the quarrel was made up, and the two were kissing each other's heads, in token of forgiveness, when they were joined by Abd el Aziz.
"I have just been told," said he, "that the Cafila to Timbuctoo has been plundered in the Beled-el-Jerede by the Woled Abou Sebah, and some of the people killed. I hope, Mahmoud, that your brother Mohammed did not go with them; it was said that he did."
Mahmoud turned deadly pale.
"Where had you this news?" said he, rising, "for I must know the truth."
"The person who told me was the old Fez merchant in the Kaisaria; he was one of them, and has lost all his goods."
Mahmoud hastily departed.
"Poor youth! if his brother be killed, woe to him; his life will be darkened, for he loved him exceedingly."