Achmed Abdullah

“ Gold—Jewels—purses ...” he toyed with the loot—“and this magic rope! Why, in the future there will be no wall too high for us, no roof too steep, and ...” he slurred, interrupted himself as—for the abandoned well was only a stone’s throw from Bagdad’s outer gate—a loud voice called to the warden to open it:
“Open wide the gates of Bagdad! We are porters bringing precious things for the adornment of the Palace! For tomorrow suitors come to woo our royal Princess!”
The Caliph in those days was Shirzad Kemal-ud-Dowlah, twelfth and greatest of the glorious Ghaznavide dynasty. ”

“ Beware, my friend! All day the place is watched by the Caliph’s soldiers. And all night—look!”—he pointed through the iron mesh of the door—“do you see these traps, these grooves and grottoes and cages? They contain the warden’s of the night: man-eating striped tigers from Bengal, black-maned Nubian lions, and long-armed, dog-toothed gorillas from the far forests! Take heed, my clever bazar hound!”
“It was your fault, Bird-of-Evil!” Ahmed turned to his friend when the captain had walked away. ”

“ They move—as if they were alive! Hayah! Hayah!”—raising his lance and pricking the bundle which thereupon squirmed, squeaked, squealed loudly—“a bunch of grapes with a human voice! Precious grapes, indeed! Most wondrous and unique grapes of Allah’s creation!”
“Pah!” The Thief of Bagdad spat disgustedly. He let drop the bundle which, the camel’s-hair cloak dropping away, disclosed Bird-of-Evil, vigorously rubbing his haunches where they had struck the pavement and wailing noisily.
“My darling,” continued the captain, nor unkindly, “the Caliph’s palace is not a healthy place for robbers.” ”

“ Bah!” sneered the Thief of Bagdad. “It is mine own strength and cleverness that will protect me! Wait down here, O ancient goat of my soul. Within the hour I shall be back with a king’s ransom tucked away in my breeches.”
He tossed the rope into the air. He spoke the secret word. The rope obeyed. It stood straight. A minute later, climbing hand over hand, Ahmed was on top of the outer wall. He looked down into the flat, emerald-green eyes of a tiger that crouched below, swishing its tail from side to side and doubtless thinking that here was a late supper provided by Fate itself. ”

“ The porters passed in singly and by twos and threes. The last was a tall negro who carried an earthen jar filled with golden, flower-scented Shiraz wine. But—wait!—here came still another porter. Not a negro he, but a lithe young Arab, naked to the waist, his legs covered by silken, baggy breeches, and balancing on his head a squat bundle that was hidden by a black camel’s-hair cloak. ”

“ For there, in a shimmering heap, were jewels from all the corners of Asia: jasper from the Punjaub, rubies from Burma, turquoises from Thibet, star-sapphires and alexandrites from Ceylon, flawless emeralds from Afghanistan, purple amethysts from Tartary, white crystal from Malwa, onyx from Persia, green jade and white jade from Amoy and from Turkestan, garnets from Bundelkhand, red corals from Socotra, pearls from Ramesvaram, lapis lazuli from Jaffra, yellow diamonds from Poonah, pink diamonds from Hydarabad, violet diamonds from Kafiristan, black, fire-veined agate from Dynbulpore. ”

“ But there is no prayer to be compared to the prayer of a man’s honest, plucky work. Such prayer means happiness. Honest, courageous, fearless work means the greatest happiness on earth!”
A sentiment the opposite of Ahmed’s philosophy of life. ”