"But you see, mother, it had to be done," said he, excitedly and imploringly at the same time, "else they would have ridiculed me again as they so often do."
"How can they ridicule you, my beloved son? " murmured Khadra, regarding him tenderly; "are you not handsomer and stronger than all of these pale, weak boys? Can you not steer a boat and use a gun better than they? Are you not a man among these boys?"
"Not yet, Mother Khadra; but I shall become one," said he, rising from his knees and lifting his head proudly. "Yes, I will become a man among these boys, and they shall all be my subjects. We had laid a wager, and that wager had to be won; and won for you, Mother Khadra," he added with a glad smile.
"For me?" she asked, wonderingly. "How can your victory over these boys be of use to me, except that I rejoice in your greater strength?"
"There is something else, mother," he replied, joyously. "They must pay a tribute, and the finest dates and peaches, and the most beautiful flowers in their gardens, are mine, two days in the week, and for three months—this was the wager. Now you have fruits and flowers. Do you remember how you complained, while we were sitting on the rock looking at the sea, that we had only this poor little hut, and no garden and no field? I said to myself, 'I'll get them for her.' And, mother, you shall have all the rest besides. Now you have fruits and flowers, but, if Allah is gracious, you shall soon have your own garden and your own house, handsomer than all the houses of Cavalla. I will build my mother a palace; she shall have slaves and servants; all shall bow down before her as before their mistress; none shall rule over her but Allah and the prophet."
The mother gazed in wonder at her son's excited countenance; he seemed to her at this moment not a child, but a man, a hero.
"Yes," she murmured to herself," he will make what he says come true: all that the dream announced and the prophetess foretold."
"What is that you are saying, mother?" asked he. "What was that dream, what did the prophetess foretell?"
She gently shook her head. "It will not be well to tell you, my son. Your heart is bold and passionate. And yet," she continued, after a moment, "it may be well that you should know it; for to the daring belongs the world, and Allah blesses those who have a passionate and earnest heart. Sit down at my side, my son, and you shall know all."
"Speak, mother, speak—I am listening. How was the dream?"