The old man, looking half amused and half angry, pushed back the
knife, muttering something to the effect that his friend was either a
fool himself, or else trying to play the fool with him. The young man
pretended not to notice his reply, and remained almost silent till
they reached the city, a short distance outside which was the old
farmer's house. They walked about the bazaar and went to the mosque,
but nobody saluted them or invited them to come in and rest.

"What a large cemetery!" exclaimed the young man.

"What does the man mean," thought the old farmer, "calling this
largely populated city a cemetery?"

On leaving the city their way led through a graveyard where a few
people were praying beside a tomb and distributing _chapatis_ and
_kulchas_ to passers-by, in the name of their beloved dead. They
beckoned to the two travelers and gave them as much as they would.

"What a splendid city this is!" said the young man.

"Now, the man must surely be demented!" thought the old farmer. "I
wonder what he will do next? He will be calling the land water, and
the water land; and be speaking of light where there is darkness,
and of darkness when it is light." However, he kept his thoughts to
himself.

Presently they had to wade through a stream that ran along the edge
of the cemetery. The water was rather deep, so the old farmer took
off his shoes and pajamas and crossed over; but the young man waded
through it with his shoes and pajamas on.