shore imploring Allah to save the nets he had taken to Imbro the day
before, and which, assuredly filled with the rarest fish, bad
perhaps already become a prey to the waves.

"Why not go after them?" said a mocking voice behind him. "Go over
and get your nets."

The fisherman regarded the intrepid boy Mohammed, who now stood at
his side, with severity. "No one would venture out in such a storm.
Moreover, this is Thursday, the evil day on which the ghins, who
draw men into the deep, are abroad. I must therefore lose my rich
catch and the nets besides. Your old uncle, Toussoun Aga, will be
well pleased, however, for it will take all I have to purchase new
nets from him."

"My uncle can make no nets at present," said Mohammed. "He has been
ill for weeks; I therefore advise you to save those you have, as you
will find it impossible to procure as good ones from anybody else."

"A good piece of advice!" cried the fisherman, angrily. "But what am
I to do if the storm tears my nets away?"

"Try to save your nets," replied Mohammed, laughing. "What will you
give me if I go over and get them and the catch of fish besides?"

"You wouldn't attempt it! Look how the waves roar and open their
wide jaws as if to devour you even here on the shore! You will not
venture out."

"I know the waves," replied the boy, "and I know your boat. It