CHAPTER XV

There was a moment’s silence, while Gus essayed a grin which failed to live up to his expectations. The brown face across the table was too much in earnest, too sincere, to allow for any levity. Then, in a low voice, Gus said:

“Yes.”

“Very well. It is not for me to say what your wish is. You know that. Later, I shall say if it will occur. Now, please look at me.”

Gus stared across the table like a bird looking into the eyes of a cat. Suddenly he flushed, and shifted his eyes. The brown man smiled.

“It is not so hard, is it?”

“Huh? Oh, you got that, hey? I was afraid—”

“You were afraid I was trying to hold your eyes, and you moved them to find out. Is that not so?”

“That’s right,” Gus admitted uneasily.

“He’s clever!” Roy whispered to Teddy, in admiration. “Bet he knows a lot about psychology.”

If Mohammed heard him, he made no sign.

“There are many things I see for you,” he said slowly, “many, many things. Some good, some bad. First I shall tell you of what you have been. You were born in a very hot country, no?”

“Uh-huh. On the border,” Gus admitted laconically.

“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:

“That, friend, is in the laps of the gods. I may not tell you of it. Please, you will excuse now?” He smiled appealingly.

“Sure! You earned your money,” Teddy said quickly. “If you’ll do a trick for us, we’ll give you five bucks—altogether. How about it?”

“Trick? Perhaps.” He gazed long at Teddy, then nodded, as though the boy had told him something. Later Teddy explained that he wanted Gus to forget what he had been told, and to get his mind on other things Teddy had suggested the trick. The brown man realized his purpose without knowing the reason, and consented to work “magic” for them.

They leaned forward eagerly as the mystic took from the folds of his robe a small flower pot. The thoughtful expression left Gus’s face and he grinned happily.

“Gee, I allus wanted to see this!” he exclaimed. “You gonna make a plant grow, ain’t you?”

Mohammed nodded and smiled.

“I shall do an attempt,” he said. “Not always succeed. Watch, please.”

Over the pot he waved his hands, intoning, the while, words in a strange language, the only expression of which Teddy was sure was “Allah Akbar.” Then, before the astonished gaze of his audience, a stem pushed its way through the earth. Higher and higher it grew, while they watched, and then tiny oranges came into being. Leaves sprouted. The plant flourished, and a faint, sweet perfume came from it.

“Golly!” Nick breathed. “She’s growin’!”

At a height of about five inches the development stopped. Mohammed dropped his hands, and bowed.

“It is finished,” he said simply. “Take and eat this.”

He pulled an orange off and handed it to Roy, who broke it open. The fruit inside was fresh and fragrant.

“Can we have the tree?” he asked.

Mohammed shook his head.

“So sorry—that I must keep. See—”

He waved his hands again, and the tree shrank. Smaller and smaller it grew, until finally it disappeared altogether. Then he seized the pot and concealed it once more beneath his robe.

“Great!” Gus cried enthusiastically. “Good stuff, Mo! Golly, I wish I could learn that! Here’s my two bucks. It sure was worth it.”

“Save it, Gus,” Roy said, and handed Mohammed a five dollar bill. The brown man pocketed it casually. “Thank you,” he said.

“Where you goin’ from here?” Nick inquired.

The shoulders shrugged. “Who knows? I shall travel with Stamboul. Once more, I thank you.” He bowed low, and walked toward the door.

“Mind if my brother and I ride a way with you?” Roy asked suddenly.

Mohammed gazed at him in surprise.

“If you so wish,” he said finally. “We follow no path, Stamboul and I. You are welcome.”

Teddy, at a motion from his brother, ran toward the hitching-rail and returned with Star and Flash. They mounted while the brown man seated himself in his wagon.

“So long, Mo!” Nick called. “Good luck!”

Mohammed smiled his answer and picked up the reins. Stamboul came to life wearily, and moved off. Teddy and Roy followed at a short distance behind.

“Don’t say anything for a while,” Roy whispered. “Not till we get a way out.”

Mohammed Ali Ben Suliman sat upright, his long robe trailing over the edge of the wagon. Stamboul walked on, and when the mystic had passed over a little hill, out of sight of the ranch, he turned.

“Looks kind of like rain, doesn’t it?” he called, every trace of his accent gone.

Teddy started. Roy smiled.