I
Mahmoud was crouched on the hot sand, in the shade of a great granite figure of an old Egyptian king. On the temple wall at his right hand was incised the figure of a large hawk, which had a certain life-like stare and stride. Below lay the thick green lake; a little pied kingfisher fluttered and poised over it. Mahmoud’s donkey had strayed a little from his  owner, and was pulling at some few blades of thin, straggling weed. The Father of the Box, who had ridden him out to Karnak, had some foolish prejudice against tying up donkeys’ heads. Mahmoud explained that it prevented the donkey from having a headache; but Englishmen always want things done in their own way.
Yet as Mahmoud sat dreaming, his eyes fixed on the water, he was thinking of none of these things. Rather he was dreaming of little Fatma, Fatma whom he had run and played with as a little girl—but now she was old enough to be married. He had seen Fatma as they came out; she was carrying a waterpot on her head, and the slender fingers were tipped with  henna; her hair was plaited over her brow, and the large blue-studded rings in her ears swayed as she ran. She held her veil firmly in her small, white teeth, and only gave him one look, half shy, half merry, as she passed.
Mahmoud’s father and mother said he must be married this year. He wished to marry no one but little Fatma; but ah! the marriage-gift.
He stared at the smooth, thick water, and droned a little song—“Oh, great holy gardener, let me into the garden.”
The sun was just going down, and as Mahmoud turned idly, half lost in his dreaming, the rays struck the wall where was the image of the hawk,  and the boy stood breathless, for the hawk was all of gold, and as he looked the fierce head turned a little.
Through his maze came the voice of the Father of the Box, crying to him to get the donkey.
A moment he started and turned, but when he looked again there was nothing but the stone hawk carved on the wall; and again came the call, as the Englishman and the “box” came round the corner.
Mahmoud gasped and panted: “The chicken is all gold.”
“Oh, the Golden Horus,” said the Father of the Box, giving the precious camera into Mahmoud’s hand. “Hurry up and fetch the donkey, it is getting dark and damp.”
 
But he did not ask how a donkey-boy should know the Golden Horus.
II
The donkey-boys were sitting outside the garden gate of the hotel. Mahmoud was against the wall, and taking little part in the flow of conversation.
“Achmet Effendi will make a big feast to-morrow,” said one. “He has killed two sheep for his feast.”
“Achmet Effendi is a very rich man,” said Maouad. “Twenty years ago he sent his servant Gameel Gameel to dig up stones to burn and lay on his field, there where the English ‘sidi matre’ (cemetery) is. But Gameel  Gameel found a big pot of golden coins and he brought them all back to Achmet Effendi. For ten years they kept them hidden, then Achmet Effendi sold them for much money and became a rich man. That is why he loves Gameel Gameel better than his son.”
“Gameel Gameel was a great fool,” said Hassan flippantly. “Why should he not become a rich man himself?”
Kuku was speaking aside to Gorgius.
“I tell my lady that I am going to be married to Fatma. I say to her: ‘I see Fatma in the market; I like her very much and she likes me very much. My mother has arranged it for me. If you give me an English handkerchief,’ I say to my lady, ‘you shall come to my wedding.’”
 
“Liar-boy!” said Gorgius scornfully; but Mahmoud feared and sighed in himself.
A small figure passed, and the light from the gas lamp showed a withered old man with a white beard and smiling face. He wore a red tarbûsh turbaned about with white, and trailed a green Mecca robe.
“Mohammed Mohassib will have a big feast,” said one. “He has killed a camel and made soup with it. The Father of the Beard said to Mohammed, ‘You will feed three hundred men to-morrow.’ Mohammed said, ‘I hope more than that.’”
“Mohammed Mohassib slept in the temple of Mut,” said Maouad; “that was fifty years ago, when he was a boy.
 
 When the sun rose Mohammed saw the golden hawk. He ran to catch it, but it flew away into the sky. One feather fell from it, and Mohammed Mohassib picked it up. Then he was a lucky man and became rich, and went to Mecca, and to-morrow he will feed more than three hundred men.”
Mahmoud’s ear was caught for the second time. “If a man sees the golden bird will he be a lucky man?” he asked.
“Oh, it is Mahmoud who will be the lucky man,” said Hassan, with a laugh. “To-morrow when Abu el Haggag has done with his boat we shall set it to float on the Lake of Karnak, and Mahmoud shall see it all golden at night and shall swim out  to it. But Mahmoud, he never speaks, so when the sun strikes it the boat of Abu el Haggag will be for Mahmoud.”
A short silence followed this profane speech, for Abu el Haggag is the great Saint of Luxor, and next day they held the procession of his sacred boat.
But Hassan rattled on. “I make no feast to-morrow. Everybody else makes a feast. Nasr says every time he sees his lady he says, ‘I have bought some sheep and some rice, and my wife has mixed them together like so; my wife has made balls of them, and she will put them in the oven to bake them. And I will bring you some.’ Every time he says that. I would not eat Nasr’s balls. I will go  to Rameses Bar and spend money and drink whisky.”
His audacity succeeded in making itself heard, which was chiefly what he wanted. And he went on: “Mahmoud gets little money from the Father of the Box. I say to the Father of the Box when he rides my donkey, ‘Give me more money, this is too little.’ He says, ‘Then I will beat you.’ But I say to the Mother of the Nose, ‘I am a very poor boy; I am only ten years old. My father send away my mother. Who shall give my mother money?’ Then she says, ‘Oh, poor boy! here is some money.’ I like these ladies. They are very foolish.”
“Did you say to the Mother of the Nose ‘My mother is married again  to a ric............