He bought their barley, for his horses.
"Channels," he said, "are necessary that we may all jump them.
They are necessary, moreover, for the crops. Let there be many
wheels and sound channels--and much good barley."
"Without money," replied an aged Sheikh, "there are no
waterwheels."
"I will lend the money," said the Governor.
"At what interest, O Our Excellency?"
"Take you two of May Queen's puppies to bring up in your village
in such a manner that they do not eat filth, nor lose their hair,
nor catch fever from lying in the sun, but become wise hounds."
"Like Ray-yal--not like Bigglebai?" (Already it was an insult
along the River to compare a man to the shifty anthropophagous
blue-mottled harrier.)
"Certainly, like Ray-yal--not in the least like Bigglebai. That
shall be the interest on the loan. Let the puppies thrive and the
waterwheel be built, and I shall be content," said the Governor.
"The wheel shall be built, but, O Our Excellency, if by God's
favour the pups grow to be well-smelters, not filth-eaters, not
unaccustomed to their names, not lawless, who will do them and me
justice at the time of judging the young dogs?"
"Hounds, man, hounds! Ha-wands, O Sheikh, we call them in their
manhood.
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