him on to you, but even now, as you see, he does not understand."
"I have an idea," said the nawâb. "Do you tell him that his ass has now become the village fakîr, and send him there, and I'll warrant that, by the exercise of some miracle or other, that holy man will be able somehow to knock sense into his head."
No sooner was it said than it was done, and presently the Pathân was seen standing by the lowly shed of the village fakîr, to whom he told his message, saying, "The priest informs me that you are my old donkey, and I want you to come home with me at once." On hearing these words, the fakîr thought to himself, "This man is daft!" Then he said, "Yes, it is all right! I was once your old donkey true enough, my master. But first I want you to do something for me, and then you must come back for me. I have a friend, another fakîr, who lives across the river. Take him these cakes, and having given them to him, with my salaams, fail not to return." Taking the cakes, the Pathân went to the river, but he had forgotten to ask for a boat in which to cross over, so he had fain to retrace his steps. "Return to the river," said the fakîr, "make respectful salaams to it, and say I have sent you, and then you will be able to cross." So he went again, and made obeisance, and received an answer, and then he was permitted to cross over the water to the other side. There he saw the second fakir, to whom he handed the cakes, saying, "Such and such a fakîr has sent you this bread." By this time the Pathân had begun to experience some faint glimmerings of reason, and he now considered within himself, "How am I to get back? I will ask the fakîr!" This therefore he did, saying, "How am I to cross the river again?"
"Go to the bank," answered the holy man, "and say to
