Mohammed nodded assent. "Rightly guessed, mother! To him I shall go
and ask him how to begin to become a rich man. Let me do so at once,
my heart is burning to ask this question."

He seized his red cap, pulled it over his brown hair, took leave of
his mother, hurried into the street, and out of the poverty-stricken
little suburb, toward the main thoroughfare, where the wealthy
lived. He walked on, reflecting profoundly over what his mother had
related, and without noticing the boys who were coming toward him.
When they perceived him, they stepped aside as if ashamed to meet
the boy who had excelled and conquered them, slipped into the next
house, closed the door which extended only half-way up the doorway
behind them, and looked out over it.

"Only look at him!" they cried, derisively. "He is good for nothing.
He can do nothing. What is he to become but a beggar? Who will pity
him when his uncle is dead, and his mother sick and bedridden? Then
he will have to serve us, and pay us tribute."

They continued to laugh at him, but he walked on quietly. Their
malicious words had not escaped him, but he took no notice of them.
Proudly and composedly he walked on, murmuring to himself in a low
voice: "They shall pay for this some day! They too are my enemies,
on whom I intend to be avenged, fearfully avenged!"

These thoughts were still expressed in his features as he entered
the great store of the merchant Lion. Hastily he threaded his way
down the narrow path that lay between the bales and barrels, toward
the light that shone at the end. There stood the merchant's office.