He stood there holding John as if he would hold him thus through time. The English boy, embarrassed, with the British instinctive dislike of emotional display, knew not what to say. He wanted to say something that would express all he felt, his love for his friend, and all the happy times they had had, but no adequate words would come. So he just gave a short, forced laugh, tightened his grip on the other boy, and then turned and picked up his shirt. "I say, we must get dressed!--it's getting late." Ali was now calm. The storm had passed. They made their way down the mountain side almost without words. The sun had not set, but the town below was already in deep shadow and they could see the lights glimmering. Now that the inevitable moment of parting was drawing near, John began to feel something of the emotion which Ali had shown by the pool. It was a break in his life, this parting; the first he had ever made. They had been jolly days, and although the future had its glamour, things would never be quite the same again. Ali would grow up, and he would grow up, each in different worlds, with different customs. They would meet in two years, but two years was a long time. Dear old Ali, if only he could take him with him! They had now reached the fountain at the foot of the steep street where the ways parted. The inevitable moment had come. John took All's hand and gripped it, English fashion. "Good-bye, Ali--I'll write to you often. We'll meet in two years." "Insh' Allah--God willing," said Ali gravely. "I will make you a gift, John effendi, will you give me a promise?" "Yes, Ali--what is it?" Ali opened his shirt at the neck, and lifted over his head a thin chain. At the end of the chain hung an oval moonstone; on one side it had Turkish characters, on the other the etching of an eye. John had often seen this charm against the evil eye hanging on his friend's neck, but as it no doubt had something to do with his faith, John had refrained from asking any questions. "See, effendi--I give you this talisman. My father brought it from Mecca. It will keep you from harm, and also you will remember me by it. Will you wear it always?" The tone was so earnest, and Ali spoke with such gravity that John nodded his head, which he lowered while Ali passed the chain over him until the talisman hung on his breast. For a moment there was an awkward pause. Ali seemed about to say something, but his lips did not move. John feared another outburst; so gripping his friend's hand, he looked into his eyes for the last time. "Good-bye, Ali!" he said, and was quickly gone into the darkening twilight. Down the street he felt an overmastering impulse to turn and wave to Ali, who, he knew, would stand watching his going, but such an act would only prolong the agony. With a firm resolve he strode on along the way home.