"That from _one_ dog," said he, and he hurled the pitcher, from which he was washing his hands, at Omar's head; but for his large turban, the blow would have been more serious: as it was, he was stunned; but recovering, sprung to his feet, dagger in hand, vowing vengeance; but now the others interfered to stop the quarrel, and Cassim, cooled by the effect of his missile, regretted his hastiness. Mahmoud was particularly zealous in pacifying the sufferer.
"Shall I not drink the coward's blood?" said Omar, struggling with Mahmoud, who was forcing him to sheath his dagger.
"What will you gain by that, or by eating him too? Curse the devil, and be friends; of all things I hate a revengeful temper; he is sorry for it."
"Who can stand such treatment?" said Omar, trying to swallow his rage. Eventually, after several relapses, the quarrel was made up, and the two were kissing each other's heads, in token of forgiveness, when they were joined by Abd el Aziz.
"I have just been told," said he, "that the Cafila to Timbuctoo has been plundered in the Beled-el-Jerede by the Woled Abou Sebah, and some of the people killed. I hope, Mahmoud, that your brother Mohammed did not go with them; it was said that he did."
"Where had you this news?" said he, rising, "for I must know the truth."
"The person who told me was the old Fez merchant in the Kaisaria; he was one of them, and has lost all his goods."
"Poor youth! if his brother be killed, woe to him; his life will be darkened, for he loved him exceedingly."
The love which existed between these two brothers was known to them all; they had been together from childhood; the quiet, unassuming disposition of the younger accorded well with the somewhat wild and bragging character of his brother, and his retiring habits preventing him mixing much with others of his station, made him cleave with more affectionate dependence to his brother; he had endeavoured to dissuade him from this journey, but his love of enterprise had prevailed. And now, with a fearful dread that they were parted for ever, Mahmoud made his way with rapid steps towards the Kaisaria, through long streets of shops, shaded from the sun by date-boughs supported by poles thrown across the street from wall to wall, hustling his way through crowds of people, water-carriers, sweetmeat-sellers, Delals hawking their goods, camels, mules, and horses, until, overcome with heat and fatigue, he reached the bazaar, where shops, packed with shawls, scarfs, silk handkerchiefs, and European goods, invited the purchaser. Here he was informed that the object of his search had gone to the fondak. The story of the plunder of the caravan was in every one's mouth. Resting a minute to take a draught of water to moisten his parched lips, and which the water-carrier, with his usual "Allaw Kerim!" emitted from the neck of a goat-skin gathered in his hand, into a brass bowl: Mahmoud set off on another long round, and at length found the Fez merchant sitting in one of the empty partitions of the colonnade, round the court-yard of the fondak. His face was woe-begone, and his fingers as usual combed his grey beard, as he ruminated over his losses, when he was addressed by Mahmoud,--