But let the young eagle brood and think until his wings are grown, and then let him fly into the world out of this miserable, rocky nest. May Allah bless his purpose, and Mohammed the prophet protect him! Allah il Allah!"

While the mother was praying, and looking out wistfully into the twilight, Mohammed was sitting in his rocky cave down on the shore.

This was as yet his only possession, his palace! No one knew of this cave, discovered by the boy while wandering on the shore. He had crept into a narrow opening in the rock which he had observed among the cliffs, that was hardly large enough to admit of the passage of his slender body. He crept on his hands and knees, and noticed with delight that this opening widened into a cave. He went on, deeper and deeper into the darkness, when suddenly he saw a bright light overhead, and discovered that he was in a wide cave, lighted from above by a round opening as by a window.

Through this opening he could view the sea, and the sky above.

This cave was known to no one else, and Mohammed carefully preserved the secret of its existence.

This cave was his palace! Here he could dream of the future; here, in impenetrable solitude, he could dwell with his thoughts; from here he could look up and implore counsel from the heavens above, or look down at the foaming sea beneath, and refresh his soul with its majesty.

By degrees he had made this cave habitable. Who knows but it may be necessary to seek it as a refuge from pursuit and danger some day? Who knows but that he may be compelled to seek safety here some day from his enemies, or even from his friends?

Whatever he could spare from the little sums of money which his mother occasionally gave him, or from the presents of Mr. Lion or his old uncle, he devoted to the purchase of bedding, or some other article of furniture of the kind used in the huts of the poor. And then at night, when no one could see him, he would creep with these things into his cave, his palace of the future. Sometimes, while sitting there dreaming, the deep-blue sky looking down upon him, the sun throwing a ray of golden light through the cave, strange visions would appear to him. The cave would transform itself into a glittering palace, and the wretched mat that lay on the ground became a luxurious silken couch, on which he reclined, smoking his tschibak, while slaves stood around in reverential attitudes, ready to do his bidding. When seated on his rickety stool—a costly possession—for it had been bought with the last remnant of his money, it seemed to him that, clothed in purple, he had mounted his throne, around which wondrous strains of melody resounded. It did not occur to him that it was the murmur of the waves beating upon the rock-bound shore without; to him they were the triumphant songs of his future greeting him, the ruler.

"A ruler, a hero, a prince, he is to be," said the prophetess to his mother, and he will do what he can to fulfil this prophecy.

It was with a great effort only that he could tear himself away from such ecstatic dreams; quit his hidden paradise, and go out into the world, into reality again.

One cannot live on dreams; one must eat, too. But it annoys him that he is subjected to this wretched necessity of eating.

"If I should have nothing to eat; if I should become so poor and miserable as to have no bread, must I then die be cause I am in the habit of eating?" he would ask himself, in angry tones.

"I will learn to live without eating!" he cried, in a loud voice.

For days he would wander about in the forests and among the rocks, at a distance from all human habitations, taking no food, in order that he might accustom himself to live on little.

On one occasion he remained absent from his mother's hut two days and nights, and Khadra awaited his return in deathly anxiety. Will he never return; has she lost him, her only son, the hope of her future, the blessing of her existence?

At last, on the third day, she sees him coming; pale and exhausted, he totters toward her, and yet his bearing is defiant, and his eye sparkles.

She hurries forward with extended arms to meet him. "Where have you been, my beloved; where were you tarrying in the distance, forgetting that a mother's heart was longing for you?"

He pressed his mother's hand to his lips, looking steadfastly into her eyes. "I was with my future, Mother Khadra," said he in a low voice. "I was with the days that are to come, the days when I shall stand on the palace, a man, a hero, sword in hand, at my feet a people looking up to me imploringly. You see, mother, your dream is fulfilled, the hero who stands up there has again transformed himself into your boy! He is here and greets you."

"But why is my boy pale and exhausted?" asked Sitta Khadra, anxiously, as she clasped him in her arms.

"I don't know!" said he, wearily. "It seems to me that my feet refuse to bear me longer, that something is drawing me upward. Let us go to the hut, mother."

He grasped her arm hastily and led her away as though he were quite strong, but Khadra observed that his lips trembled, and that his face was pallid.

"He looks hungry," she murmured to herself. "Yes, I see he is hungry! Buried in his thoughts, he has again forgotten to take food."

She said no more, but walked hastily to the hut and led him in. "Son of my heart, I have been awaiting you," said she, with an innocent air. "I did not wish to partake of our simple supper until my son had come home. Let us sit down and eat. Allah bless our meal!"

It does not escape her that his eye suddenly glitters as he looks at the bread and dates brought yesterday by the boys as his tribute.

With a quick motion he stretches out his hand toward the fruit, but suddenly withdraws it, as if ashamed of himself.

"It does not become children to seat themselves before their parents, and eat before they have broken bread. Eat, mother; seat yourself, and allow your son to wait on you."

That he might not feel hurt, she seated herself quickly and took part of the fruit offered her. She handed him some, and now human nature conquered the spirit, and he heartily ate of the fruit and bread.

"Where were you, my boy? Light of my eyes, where were you?" asked the mother.

"Up there among the rocks, and below on the shore," replied he, smiling.

"Where did you find food there? I know that eagles, hawks, and doves, find their food among the rocks, but for mankind there is no food there."

"And I found none, Mother Khadra; I must learn to do with little, to conquer hunger, and I fought with it for two days. See how I am rewarded!—my food never tasted so deliciously before."

"Eat, my boy! Allah bless your food and drink! How fortunate that I have something for your thirst, too! Uncle Toussoun Aga brought me to-day a bottle of Cyprian wine, a present from Mr. Lion. You must drink of it, my boy."

He shook his head. "No, Sitta Khadra, I will not drink of the wine sent you by the noble merchant to restore your strength. Water from the well, from the spring of life, is a better drink for me. For you, the Cyprian wine, for me the spring-wine that bubbles from the rock."

He took down the gourd cup from the wall, and went out and quenched his thirst with long draughts at the spring, and then returned to his mother. He was now restored to strength and vigor; the color returned to his cheeks, and his knees no longer trembled.

"My eyes' delight, my Mohammed fresh and full of life again!" cried Mother Khadra. "Light