aments such as are sometimes
worn unlawfully by vain men in that country--silver signet rings and
earrings, chains for the neck, and Solomon's seal to hang on the breast
as safeguard against the evil eye--as well as much gold filagree of the
kind that men give to their women. Israel had packed them in a box
and laid them in the leaf pannier of a mule, and then given no further
thought to them; but, calling now to the muleteer who had charge of
them, he said, "Take them quickly to the good man yonder, and say, 'A
present to the man of God and to his people in their trouble.'"

And when the muleteer had done this, and laid the box of gold and silver
open at the feet of the young Mahdi, saying what Israel had bidden him,
it was the same to the young man and his followers as if the sky had
opened and rained manna on their heads.

"It is an answer to your prayer," he cried; "an angel from heaven has
sent it."

Then his people, as soon as they realised what good thing had happened
to them, took up his shout of joy, and shouted out of their own parched
throats--

"Prophet of Allah, we will follow you to the world's end!"

And then down on their knees they fell around him, the vast concourse of
men and women, all grinning like apes in their hunger and glee together,
and sobbing and laughing in a breath, like children, and sent up a great
broken cry of thanks to God that He had sent them succour, that they
might not die. At last, when they had risen to their feet again, every
man looked into the eyes of his fellow and said, as if ashamed, "I could
have borne it myself, but when the children called to me for bread. I
was a fool."

CHAPTER X

THE WATCHWORD OF THE MAHDI

Early the next day Israel set his face homeward, with this old word of
the new prophet for his guide and motto: "Exact no more than is just; do
violence to no man; accuse none falsely; part with your riches and give
to the poor." That was all the answer he got out of his journey, and if
any man had come to him in Tetuan with no newer story, it must have been
an idle and a foolish errand; but after El Kasar, after Wazzan, after
Mequinez, and now after Fez, it seemed to be the sum of all wisdom.
"I'll do it," he said; "at all risks and all costs, I'll do it."

And, as a prelude to that change in his way of life which he meant
to bring to pass he sent his men and mules ahead of him, emptied his
pockets of all that he should not need on his journey, an