In the presence of the sheykh, the derwish made a low reverence, thanking him for his hospitality towards them, and begging him to accept a slight token of their esteem. To the amazement of the sheykh, as well as Misa, he produced the stolen basin, and laid it at the sheykh’s feet. Musa, mindful of his promise, said no word.
The third day’s journey was through a barren region, where Mûsa was glad of the scraps which, but for the derwish, he would have thrown away. Towards evening they came to a river, which the derwish decided not to attempt to cross till next morning, preferring to spend the night in a miserable reed-built hut, where the widow of a ferryman dwelt with her orphan nephew, a boy of thirteen. The poor woman did all in her power to make them comfortable, and in the morning made them breakfast before starting. She sent her nephew with them to show the way to a ruinous bridge further down the river. She shouted instructions after the boy to guide their honours safely over it ere he returned. The guide led the way, the derwish followed him, and Mûsa brought up the rear. When they got to the middle of the bridge, the derwish seized the boy by the neck and flung him into the water, and so drowned him. “Monster! murderer!” cried Mûsa, beside himself. The derwish turned upon his disciple, and the prophet knew him for El Khudr. “You once more forget the terms of our agreement,” he said sternly, “and this time we must part. All that I have done was predestined by Divine mercy. Our first host, though a man of the best intentions,
