Dressed in a dark blue galabeyah, with a white turban and red slippers, he makes an imposing figure. He has a smattering of various languages, in which “Real antīcas, gentleman,” looms large. Also he has an intimate knowledge of the various coinages and generally manages to come out on the right side in making a deal—at least, I never heard of one who owned to the contrary. He possesses largely the gift of perseverance and is like a sleuth-hound in tracking down a possible purchaser. In this he is assisted by the bowabs and servants, many of whom are his own blood-relations or friends. It must be remembered that most of the servants in Egypt are Berberines, from Nubia, and as the cultivable land up the Nile is in places reduced to a few hundred yards, and travelling by boat is cheap, it will be seen that the men can easily get to know each other well even though miles of the Nile waterway may separate the villages. But the “up-river man” is not the only itinerant seller of antiquities. A donkey boy may have found out that he can make more money by selling antīcas to his patrons than he can by running after his donkey, even though the bakshīsh be included; so he ponders over this until it becomes an obsession and fills his thoughts day and night. No longer will he remain a donkey boy, he determines; he has a good arbeyah or cloak and decent slippers, and a long black cloak will hide a multitude of unwashedness. Visions of untold wealth spread themselves out before him. A man he has heard of got £12,000 for a papyrus, and £40 for a gold-mounted scarab is an ordinary price. By a merciful dispensation, Allah has given the Nazarenes into the hands of the Faithful. So he chooses riches; for, after all, money means strength and honour in his village, and perhaps—who knows?—one or more wives who will be beautiful as the houris of Paradise of whom he heard the Mullah discourse in the mosque only the last Friday. The prospect is dazzling and fills the boy’s brain. Rich and powerful, men will look up to him with respect, he will possess feddans of land and children will rise up around him. He clasps his hands and looks at a donkey distastefully. Did he ever run miles across the desert behind such uncleanliness? Why, even Allah had named it “ass,” which means, as he has been told, “a fool” in the language of those who buy antīcas. Why had he slumbered and why had his eyes been shut in the past? Here was wealth, only waiting for him to seize it. It was not too late; he would force fortune to come to him. So thinking, the boy sat gazing with unseeing eyes at the scene before him. Girls passed and giggled. “He hath seen an Afrit,” said one. “Nay, a woman hath cast her eyes on him,” said another. He heard and frowned, then bending forward, took up a stone and threw it at a passing dog. The yelp of pain brought him back from the dream world. His resolve was taken; he would become an antīca-seller and, “Inshallah,” might perhaps reap fortune at one swoop.