ded on the ground. Rhamon loved the music of her dancing feet. When she whirled, her skirts made a cloud of red and gold about her. A floating veil covered her face, so Rhamon could see only the flash of her great black eyes. Too soon the dance was ended and people tossed coins at her feet.
Rhamon wished he had not spent his last anna for that top. He would have liked to reach into his pocket and toss a coin to the pretty dancer just like the other men. However, he moved away to meet his uncle.
On the way home from the Bazaar Rhamon saw a man sitting on the ground, blowing fire out of his mouth. People were standing nearby watching him. Rhamon pulled his uncle's sleeve, "Look, the man is on fire!"
"O-ho," said his uncle, "we must stop here and watch him. He is Mohammed Bukhs, and he can do tricks that will make you think he must be made of magic."
All this time the trickster was puffing his
