He crept up to him
and said in a low voice: "What will become of you, my poor horse? You
will not be happy with these Turks. Go home to my tent. Tell my wife
that she will never see me again. Lick the hands of my children with
your tongue, as a token of my love."
He then bit off with his teeth the cords that tied the horse, and set
him free. The horse looked at his master for a minute or two. Then he
caught him with his teeth by the belt and ran off with him into the
desert. On and on across the sand he ran. He never stopped until he
had laid Hassan down beside his wife and children. Then, worn out with
his long run, he dropped dead at his master's feet.
All the people around wept when they heard the story. Arab poets made
songs about Hassan and his horse.
The Arabs do not eat very much. Their chief meal is supper. They have
supper in the evening. They are very fond of coffee. Did you ever
hear of Mocha coffee? It comes from Mocha, a town in Arabia. Most of
the Arabs take their coffee without sugar or milk.
They always make their bread in thin cakes. Then they bake the bread
on hot iron plates or in an open oven. They also have ground wheat
cooked with a little butter.
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