gold back into his pocket, and faithful Said must coax it forth again. Hamuda, the donkey-owner, extricated himself from the mêlée, and plucked Zack by the sleeve. Zack shook him off—"G'way from here! Don't you see me studyin' 'bout dis here camel? I ain't got no time to be foolin' wid mules." Thereupon the camel-seller further rebuked the covetous Hamuda with a buffet which caused him to whirl as a spinning-top, and himself took Hamuda's place before the Black Effendi. Zack's bland black face shifted towards Achmet with the childlike inquiry, "Mister, is dem camels hard to ride?"
Said translated rapidly, and for answer Achmet waved his hand to that luxuriant makloofa—a saddle the like of which no Vicksburg negro had ever bestrode.
"Honest, mister? Sho' nuff? Kin I ride? I'd buy dis camel in a minute, ef I could ride him."
The wily Achmet never hinted a promise to sell; he only helped Zack to a seat and crossed the Black Effendi's legs around the little post that stuck up in front of the saddle. There was another peg behind, but Zack didn't know what that was for. With due solemnity, Achmet placed the richly woven halter in Old Reliable's hand.
The camel snarled and reached around with an India rubber neck. His upper lip had a beard; the lower lip hung loose enough to wrap
