“As far as the horse is concerned, as I was walking upon another path in the wood I noticed the tracks of a horse’s hoofs. I examined them and found them small and delicate, such as only a highly-bred horse’s hoofs would be; from the distance apart I judged that the horse had been galloping at a great rate, and I noticed a stone against which he had evidently struck one hoof and left a small silver shaving, therefore I knew he was shod with silver shoes. The path down which I was walking was seven feet wide and the palms on each side had had the dust brushed from their leaves. ‘Ah!’ said I, ‘the horse swished his tail to and fro and swept the palms with it on each side of him, therefore the tail must have been at least three and a half feet in length.’ The branches of the trees beneath which I was walking were some five feet from the ground and I saw that leaves had freshly fallen from them, no doubt brushed off by the horse in his flight, therefore I guessed him to be fifteen hands high. On the bushes I saw traces of golden-brown horse hair, caught here and there, and I knew then the colour of the horse that had passed that way. “As I left the cover of the bushes I noticed a tiny mark of gold on a rock, and guessed that the runaway had had a golden bit between its teeth, which it had rubbed against the stone as it bounded past.” “Now, by the beard of the Prophet,” cried the delighted Emperor, “that is what I call good eyesight, and no mistake. I only wish my master of the Hounds and the Chief of the Police had such eyes for a trail. Now, Master Jew, it is but fair we should reward you on account of what you have innocently suffered, and for the sake of the sagacity you have shown. As you should have paid me a hundred sequins, you shall be pardoned fifty on account of the fifty strokes you received. Now open your purse and pay me the other fifty, but remember to beware in future of how you make a laughing stock of your Emperor: if you wish to ridicule anyone, the pain in your feet may serve to remind you it would be best to make a butt of one of lesser degree!” THE STORY OF ALMANSOR. There was once a Sheik of Alexandria named Ali Banu. Although he was good and generous, rich and clever, he was a very unhappy man, for he had the misfortune to lose his only son when he was but ten years of age, and the joy of his father’s heart. [Illustration: _Almansor in the camp of the Franks._ (P. 164.)] It was at the time when the Franks overran the country like a pack of hungry wolves. They had conquered Alexandria and had pushed their way further and further, and attacked the Mamelukes. The Sheik was a wise man and tried therefore to keep the peace with them, but they grudged him his wealth and so made an excuse to quarrel with him. They pretended that he had been supplying the Mamelukes secretly with weapons, horses, and stores, and so they seized his young son Kairam and carried him away to their camp as a hostage.