The Arab bowed his head and returned the salutation.
"Aleikum es salam," said he, and he waited.
"It is Abou Fatma?" asked the negro.
The Arab nodded an assent.
"Two days ago," the other continued, "a man of the Bisharin, Moussa
Fedil, stopped me in the market-place of Berber, and seeing that I was
hungry, gave me food. And when I had eaten he charged me to drive this
donkey to Abou Fatma at the wells of Obak."
Abou Fatma looked carelessly at the donkey as though now for the first
time he had remarked it.
"Tayeeb," he said, no less carelessly. "The donkey is mine," and he sat
inattentive and motionless, as though the negro's business were done and
he might go.
The negro, however, held his ground.
"I am to meet Moussa Fedil again on the third morning from now, in the
market-place of Berber. Give me a token which I may carry back, so that
he may know I have fulfilled the charge and reward me."
Abou Fatma took his knife from the small of his back, and picking up a
stick from the ground, notched it thrice at each end.
"This shall be a sign to Moussa Fedil;" and he handed the stick to his
companion. The negro tied it securely into a corner of his wrap, loosed
his water-skin from the donkey's back, filled it at the well and slung
it about his shoulders.
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