"And when we had rested we went and sat before the face of Ibrahim and gazed upon him long, without words. "And he wept. Like a woman he wept, and said 'Slay me, Mir Saheb, and have done. Slay me with thy knife.' "But my brother replied softly and sweetly:-- "'What wild words are these, Ibrahim? Why should I slay thee? Some matter of a quarrel there was concerning thy torturing of my servant--but I am not of them that bear grudges and nurse hatred. In no anger slay thee with my knife? Why should I injure thee? I do most solemnly swear, Ibrahim, that I will do thee no wilful hurt. I will but anoint thine eyes with the contents of this bottle just as I did anoint my own. Why should I slay thee or do thee hurt?' "And I chuckled aloud. He was all Pathan then, Sahib, and handling his enemy right subtly. "And Ibrahim wept yet more loudly and said again:-- "'Slay me and have done.' Then my brother gave him the name by which he was known ever after, saying:-- "'Why should I slay thee, _Ibrahim, the Weeper_?' and he produced the bottle and held it above that villain's face. "His screams were music to me, and in the joy of his black heart Moussa Isa burst into some strange chant in his own Somali tongue. "'Nay, our friends must hear thy eloquence and songs, Ibrahim,' said my brother, after he had held the bottle tilted above the face of the Weeper for some minutes. ''Twere greedy to keep this to ourselves.' "Again and again that day my brother would say: 'Nay--I cannot wait longer. Poor Ibrahim's weeping eyes must be relieved at once,' and he would produce the bottle, uncork it, and hold it over Ibrahim's face as he writhed and screamed and twisted in his bonds. "'What ails thee, Ibrahim the Weeper?' he would coo. 'Thou knowest it is a soothing lotion. Didst thou not see me use it on mine own eyes?' Yea, he was true Pathan then, and I loved him the more. "A hundred times that day he did thus and enjoyed the music of Ibrahim's screams, and by night the dog was a little mad. So, lest we defeat ourselves and lose something of the sport our souls loved, we left him in peace that night, if 'peace' it is to know that the dreadful death you have prepared for another now overhangs you. Moussa Isa kept watch through the night. And in the morning came Abdul Haq and Hussein Ali and the servants and _oont-wallahs_, save a few who had been sent with laden camels by the Caravan Road. And, when all had eaten and rested, my brother held _durbar_,[34] having placed Ibrahim Mahmud in the midst, bound, and looking like one who has long lain upon a bed of sickness. [34] Meeting.