“Mohammed Mohassib slept in the temple of Mut,” said Maouad; “that was fifty years ago, when he was a boy. When the sun rose Mohammed saw the golden hawk. He ran to catch it, but it flew away into the sky. One feather fell from it, and Mohammed Mohassib picked it up. Then he was a lucky man and became rich, and went to Mecca, and to-morrow he will feed more than three hundred men.”
Mahmoud’s ear was caught for the second time. “If a man sees the golden bird will he be a lucky man?” he asked.
“Oh, it is Mahmoud who will be the lucky man,” said Hassan, with a laugh. “To-morrow when Abu el Haggag has done with his boat we shall set it to float on the Lake of Karnak, and Mahmoud shall see it all golden at night and shall swim out to it. But Mahmoud, he never speaks, so when the sun strikes it the boat of Abu el Haggag will be for Mahmoud.”
A short silence followed this profane speech, for Abu el Haggag is the great Saint of Luxor, and next day they held the procession of his sacred boat.
But Hassan rattled on. “I make no feast to-morrow. Everybody else makes a feast. Nasr says every time he sees his lady he says, ‘I have bought some sheep and some rice, and my wife has mixed them together like so; my wife has made balls of them, and she will put them in the oven to bake them. And I will bring you some.’ Every time he says that. I would not eat Nasr’s balls. I will go to Rameses Bar and spend money and drink whisky.”
His audacity succeeded in making itself heard, which was chiefly what he wanted. And he went on: “Mahmoud gets little money from the Father of the Box. I say to the Father of the Box when he rides my donkey, ‘Give me more money, this is too little.’ He says, ‘Then I will beat you.’ But I say to the Mother of the Nose, ‘I am a very poor boy; I am only ten years old. My father send away my mother. Who shall give my mother money?’ Then she says, ‘Oh, poor boy! here is some money.’ I like these ladies. They are very foolish.”
“Did you say to the Mother of the Nose ‘My mother is married again to a rich man,’ oh liar?” asked Mahmoud.
But at this moment the garden gate opened and a babel of voices arose:—“Take my donkey; take my donkey; de best donkey in Luxor.” “Here is Whisky and Soda; no donkey like so.” “Never you believe nobody. Liar boy. Here is Rameses. Every day he win a race....”
III
Abu el Haggag’s boat had come and passed, poor starveling representative of the longest pedigree in the world. Here passed of old the Sacred Bark of the gods, carrying the precious images and emblems, the king burning incense before it, the oxen lotus-garlanded for the sacrifice.