Yes, I will speak thus to them, and thus it shall be! And with them I shall begin! These cowardly boys shall be my subjects, and woe to them if they do not pay the tribute! O mother, beautiful days are in store for you!""My dear, foolish boy," said the mother, regarding him tenderly, "you dream of a brilliant future, but it is impossible to realize this dream. We are poor, and Fortune seldom resides with the poor.""I will make us rich!" exclaimed the boy; "yes, I will make us rich, though as yet I know not how I am to do it. But do you know who shall assist me in doing so?""I think I do," replied the mother, smiling, "you will ask your good friend Mr. Lion?"Mohammed nodded assent. "Rightly guessed, mother! To him I shall go and ask him how to begin to become a rich man. Let me do so at once, my heart is burning to ask this question."He seized his red cap, pulled it over his brown hair, took leave of his mother, hurried into the street, and out of the poverty-stricken little suburb, toward the main thoroughfare, where the wealthy lived. He walked on, reflecting profoundly over what his mother had related, and without noticing the boys who were coming toward him.
When they perceived him, they stepped aside as if ashamed to meet the boy who had excelled and conquered them, slipped into the next house, closed the door which extended only half-way up the doorway behind them, and looked out over it.
"Only look at him!" they cried, derisively. "He is good for nothing.
He can do nothing. What is he to become but a beggar? Who will pity him when his uncle is dead, and his mother sick and bedridden? Then he will have to serve us, and pay us tribute."They continued to laugh at him, but he walked on quietly. Their malicious words had not escaped him, but he took no notice of them.
Proudly and composedly he walked on, murmuring to himself in a low voice: "They shall pay for this some day! They too are my enemies, on whom I intend to be avenged, fearfully avenged!"These thoughts were still expressed in his features as he entered the great store of the merchant Lion. Hastily he threaded his way down the narrow path that lay between the bales and barrels, toward the light that shone at the end. There stood the merchant's office.
Now he hears a kindly voice welcoming him.
"Behold the hero of Imbro, the daring conqueror of the sea! Welcome my hero, welcome!"He stood still, listening to these tones, a happy smile over-spreading his countenance. How beautiful it is to be thus welcomed!
To be sure, as yet it is only a friendly greeting, and half in mockery, but this greeting shall one day resound from the throats of whole nations, and not in mockery. Shall they hail him, "Welcome, thou hero!" This he swears shall be, as he steps up to Mr. Lion, who extends both hands to him over his counter, and regards him tenderly.
"Here again, my Mohammed! They have been speaking of you all day, and three men have already been here to tell of your heroic deed.
Let me see your hands. Yes, they are torn and bleeding. Yes, my boy, I have rejoiced with you, and am proud with you for having put those boys to shame.""I thank you, sir," said he, earnestly; "yet it is not enough to conquer boys; one must also conquer men and nations!"Mr. Lion regarded him with wonder. "What is this you are saying?
