open the blinds and shouted, "Whar he? Said! Hommit!" At the scatteration of Arabs, Old Reliable fell back against the window-sill and chuckled with joy. Like a half-plucked rooster Ibrahim tore himself loose, and went flapping through the garden; Mahomet wrangled and jowled with Said until they reached the very door, where these faithful servants answered together, "Here, Effendi."
"What you niggers been doin'? Hump yo'self, Hommit, an' git busy wid dis packin'. Tote Cunnel's stuff to de boat. Come 'long, Said, I got bizness up town." Thrusting a hand into his pocket, Old Zack stirred up the golden coins, letting them drip back with a most pleasing sound. Mahomet glared at the fortunate Said who followed his master—by a rear exit to avoid meeting the Colonel.
Spent money never troubled Zack; it was the unspent kind that gave him the fidgets. Colonel Spottiswoode knew nothing of the twenty sovereigns so innocently gained by Old Reliable at Alexandria. But Zack knew. They had fermented in his pocket and galled his thigh.
Said and Zack passed out of the garden into the openness of a glaring street. Rounding the first corner, they came upon two men busily clip ping a donkey, men in jibbas and scanty turbans intent upon their task. Zack halted and exclaimed,
