THE LUCK OF THE IRISH
eager to receive them. When the oranges had vanished, the boy tilted the water-jar scientifically and William was no longer thirsty. But he lowered his head suggestively. The boy understood the movement, for he sluiced William's head generously.
"You're the real Samaritan, all right, boy. And when you go to Paradise I hope they'll give you a harem two blocks long."
In return for this excellent wish the boy, without the least sign of greediness, proceeded to rifle William's pockets; and he was as thorough as a German chemist. The result of this immoral procedure was a penknife, the key to William's steamer trunk, two double piasters from a vest pocket which had been overlooked by the boy's elders, four receipted hotel bills, and a picture post-card. The boy tucked these ill-gotten gains under his fez and sprang up.
This was too much for William's risibles. He chuckled.
"In business for yourself, huh? Well, you're welcome. Going? Take care of yourself. Anyhow, I guess you've saved one Irishman's life."
Alone once more, he renewed his efforts to loosen the rope. Again he was forced to give up. After this he fell asleep. The banging of kettledrums and the mournful wailing of reeds awoke him. The sounds passed and dwindled. He heard the bleating protest of a camel. The angle of sunshine appalled him. It must be somewhere around five o'clock in the afternoon. He had slept the major
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