sleeve: "My house is thy house, and all that there is in it. Deign to enter. Be thou seated"—which Said dutifully translated—with decorations—to his master.
"Tell him thankee, suh; he sho' is a nice ole gen'leman."
The servant of Ben Idris placed a stool for Zack in the shade of a matting which overhung the front of his bazaar. Zack removed his helmet, and mopped his brow. Another salaaming servant set a tabourette before him, then a tiny cup of coffee, thick and syrupy, with cigarettes. Zack smacked his lips, lighted a cigarette, and his soul gained peace. It was shady in the bazaar, where Zack might gaze serenely upon cloths of many stripes and the gay handkerchiefs that hung within. Mohammed ben, Idris, with all dignity, laid out his wares—fluffy stuffs in billows of a vari-colored sea. Zack fingered them, and contrary to every tradition of the East, he praised Mohammed's goods.
"Dem sho' is good lookin' hankerchers. I wants a lot o' dem for Seliny."
From the river came the persistent shrieking of a whistle; the Ingleezi devil-boat was calling for all who meant to go aboard of her. Hamuda rushed forward in a frenzy and demanded that the Black Effendi be left to complete his purchase of a donkey. Achmet's knotted arms jerked Ha-
