As for this fine colt, one day, when his sire Ocab had been put out on pasture, he was being led by the daughter of Jahir along the side of a lake at noonday, and there he saw the mare Helweh, who was tethered close to the tent of her master.  He immediately began to neigh, and slipped his halter.  The young girl in her embarrassment let him go, and for modesty took refuge in the tent of a friend.  The stallion remained on the spot until the girl returned.  She seized the halter and took him to the stables.

But her father discerned the anxiety which she could not conceal.  He questioned her, and she told him what had happened.  He became furious with rage on hearing her story, for he was naturally choleric; he ran among the tents, flinging off his turban, and crying at the top of his voice, while all the Arabs crowded round him, “Tribe of Byah, tribe of Byah!  Kinsmen and friends, hear me.”  Then he related what his daughter had told him.  “I cannot permit,” he added, “that the blood of my horse should be blended with that of Helweh; yet I am not willing to sell him for the most costly sheep and camels; and if I cannot otherwise prevent Helweh from bearing a colt to my stallion, I shall be glad if some one will put the mare to death.”  “By all means,” cried his listeners, “do as you please, for we can have no objection.”  Such were the usual terms of Arabian courtesy.

Nevertheless, Helweh, in course of time, bore a fine colt, whose birth brought great joy to her master.  He named the young horse Dahir.  The colt waxed in strength and beauty, until he actually excelled his sire Ocab.  His chest was broad, his neck long, his hoofs hard, his nostrils widely expanded.  His tail swept the ground, and he was of the gentlest temper; in short, he was the most perfect creature ever seen.  Being reared with the greatest care, his shape was perfect as the archway of a royal palace.  When the mare Helweh, followed by her colt, was one day moving along the shore of a lake, Ocab’s owner chanced to see them.  He seized the young horse, and took him home with him, leaving his mother in grief for his difference.  “As for Jahir,” he said, “this colt belongs to me, and I have more right to him than anyone else.”

The news of the colt’s disappearance soon reached his owner’s ears.  He assembled the chiefs of the tribe, and told them what had happened.  They sent to Jahir, and he was reproached bitterly.  “Jahir,” they said, “you have not suffered, yet have done injustice, in that you carried off that which belonged to another man.”  “Say no more,” answered Jahir, “and spare me these reproaches, for, by the faith of an Arab, I will not return the colt, unless compelled by main force.  I will declare war against you first.”  At that moment the tribe was not prepared for a quarrel; and several of them said to Jahir:  “We are too much attached to you to push things to such an extreme as that; we are your allies and kinsmen.  We will not fight with you,