“It can’t be told unless you already know,” said Ali.

“Allah my refuge!  Then I would not be asking you!” answered Zeyn.  “I should have shaken the tree and gathered the diamonds, rubies, and emeralds, and been off with them!”

“You did not hear what was said.  Ibn the Happy found that they could not be taken from the tree.  He had tried what you propose.  He broke off a great number and ran away with them.  But they turned to black dust in his bosom.  He put them all down, and when he looked back he saw them still shining on the tree.”

“What did Ibn the Happy do?”

“He climbed into the tree and lived there.”

In the distance jackals were barking.  “I like nothing better than listening to stories,” said Zeyn al-Din.  “But, Allah!  Just now there are more important things to do!  Yusuf the Red, I name you watcher here until moonrise.  Then waken Melec, who already sleeps there!”

His eyes touched in passing the big Christian.  “Oh yes, you would be a good watcher,” thought Zeyn.  “But there’s a folly in this caravan!  Wait till good fortune has a steadier foot!”

But good fortune continued a wavering, evanishing thing.  Deep in the night, from behind a stiffened wave of earth, rose and dashed a mounted band of Bedouin robbers.  Yusuf the Red and other watchers had and gave some warning.  Zeyn al-Din’s voice was presently heard like a trumpet.  The caravan repelled the robbers.  But five of its number were lost, some camels and mules driven off.  The Bedouins departing with wild cries, there were left confusion and bewailing, slowly straightening, slowly sinking.  The caravan, with a pang, recognized that ill luck was a traveler with it.

The dead received burial; the wounded were looked to, at last hoisted, groaning, upon the camels, among the merchandise.  Unrested, bemoaning loss, the trading company made their morning start three hours behind the set time.  For stars in the sky, there was the yellow light and the sun at a bound, strewing heat.  In the melee the robbers had thrust lance or knife into several of the water-skins.  Yet there was, it was held, provision enough.  The caravan went on.  At midday the Bedouins returned, reinforced.  Zeyn al-Din and his mustered force beat them off.  No loss of goods or life, but much of time!  The caravan went on, that with laden beasts must move at best much like a tortoise.  That night the rest was shortened.  Two hours after midnight and the strings of camels were moving again, the asses and mules so monstrously misshapen with bales of goods, the horses and horsemen and those afoot.  At dawn, not these Bedouins, but another roving band, harassed them.  Time was running like water from a cracked pitcher.

This day they cleared the robber bands.  There spread before them, around them, clean desert.  Then returned that sickness.

“O Zeyn al-Din, what could we expect who travel with him who denies Allah?”