“I know not that place. But I see that you have the nature of the south. Slow, gentle, kind. I, myself, have that nature. You do not like excitement.” “Nor work,” Nick added, _sotto voce_. “What? No, young man, that is not so. This man is not lazy. He goes carefully, that is all. He like not to jump into things. And that is good. One thing I sorry for. You have not music in your life, as you should.” “Huh? I can’t play nothin’.” “I not understand what you say, ‘play.’ I tell you that you should have music, and you have not. Too bad. You have the soul for it. Now, you are married, no?” “Yep.” “Your wife, she, I think, is from hot country. That kind of girl go with your nature. Some time, I think before you marry, you have trouble with this girl--you not be so sure of her. I see you unhappy for a time. Is that true?” “That’s true,” Gus answered. He looked up at Roy. The boy was observing Mohammed intently. “You would like to know something of the future?” “Go ahead.” “Eleven months from now you will be most un-happy. I cannot say why, but I see it for you. That will pass. You must remember that it will pass. You will never be much rich. But you will have that which is better than riches--health and love. Your life will be long. Never shall you cross great water. The big world shall not know of you, but along your path those friends you have will honor you. Should you have music into your life, it will help you to happiness. And you will some day be a fine, wonderful musician if you allow the music to enter. Still your path is not into the cities, but through fields. Your music will be for your friends, not for the world. There will be one who will know how great a musician you could become. That is your wife.” He paused, and put a hand to his head. “That--is all.” Gus sat quietly, staring down at the table. The thoughts that were running through his head showed in his face--wonderment at the brown man’s powers of divination, memories of what had happened so long ago in Vegas. Suddenly he grinned, and looked up. “You sure hit ’em right, Mo! Say, can I ask you any questions?” “As much as you will.” “Well, have I got anyone who’s lookin’ to do me dirt?” “What? I cannot see this, what you mean ‘dirt’.” “He means any enemies,” Teddy explained. “Enemies! Now listen. In this room I feel that all are friends--good friends. Yet there is something that trys to get in--someone who is an enemy to all here. Yes, young man, you have an enemy, but not of yourself--he is enemy because of what you are, not because who your are.” “Yea. Maybe. But I don’t get what you--” “You mean that someone is his enemy because he is a friend of ours?” Roy asked bluntly. “That is it, young man,” Mohammed answered, not at all dismayed. “You, all of you, have those who wish you not well. They seek to harm you.” “An’ will they?” Nick demanded, leaning forward. Mohammed kept silence for a moment, then spoke, slowly: