“Oh, Such an one; Son of such an one,” said the Governor, prompted by the Sheikh, “learn, from the day when I send the order, to block up all the holes where Abu Hussein may hide--on--thy--land!” The light flicks ended. The man stood up triumphant. By that accolade had the Supreme Government acknowledged his title before all men. While the village praised the perspicacity of the Governor, a naked, pock-marked child strode forward to the earth, and stood on one leg, unconcerned as a young stork. “Hal” he said, hands behind his back. “This should be blocked up with bundles of dhurra stalks--or, better, bundles of thorns.” “Better thorns,” said the Governor. “Thick ends innermost.” The child nodded gravely and squatted on the sand. “An evil day for thee, Abu Hussein,” he shrilled into the mouth of the earth. “A day of obstacles to thy flagitious returns in the morning.” “Who is it?” the Governor asked the Sheikh. “It thinks.” “Farag the Fatherless. His people were slain in the days of the Oppression. The man to whom Our Excellency has awarded the land is, as it were, his maternal uncle.” “Will it come with me and feed the big dogs?” said the Governor. The other peering children drew back. “Run!” they cried. “Our Excellency will feed Farag to the big dogs.” “I will come,” said Farag. “And I will never go.” He threw his arm round Royal's neck, and the wise beast licked his face. “Binjamin, by Jove!” the Inspector cried. “No!” said the Governor. “I believe he has the makings of a James Pigg!” Farag waved his hand to his uncle, and led Royal on to the barge. The rest of the pack followed. * * * * *