"That's more than I can say," said his friend. "But here we are at the grave."
The procession marched solemnly around the grave, and having placed the body in it returned to the town.
Tom and the Lieutenant had quite a walk to take before they again fell in with their companions. They discovered that the next feature on the programme was a further pull up the canal, in accordance with which arrangement they again embarked in the bellem. The canal was full of other boats, which passed them going and coming, the boatmen singing Arab ditties. Great loads of grain came down the stream.
"A good deal of that grain," said the Captain, "goes to Jeddah, and is sold to the pilgrims arriving at that port for Mecca."
In places remote from the Shat-el-Arab or the Tigris it is difficult and expensive to find means of transportation, so a large quantity of grain is used for fuel, and some rots away, or is consumed by rats in the granaries.
"Look at that," cried Mr. Jollytarre, pointing toward a warehouse close to the river-bank, tottering to its fall, as though an earthquake had suddenly overtaken it. "The rats have been having a fine time there."
As he spoke, the building he had pointed out fell with a loud crash.
"Pull ashore," cried the Captain. "We must see what all this means. Jollytarre, you must be dreaming. Rats, indeed!" Hastily running ashore, they came up against a sedate, imperturbable Turkish official, who re-assured them: "It is only one of the government grain stores that has fallen. It often happens. The rats undermine the walls to get at the grain, and from time to time a building gives way."
"Extraordinary!" cried Tom's father. "Well, I don't see that we can do anything here." So they re-embarked.