It had told him to dig where his tears fell.
As he was attempting to pull out the rocks he encountered, he heard footsteps. Several figures approached him.
Their backs were to the moonlight, and the boy could see neither their eyes nor their faces.
“What are you doing here?” one of the figures demanded. Because he was terrified, the boy didn’t answer.
He had found where his treasure was, and was frightened at what might happen.
“We’re refugees from the tribal wars, and we need money,” the other figure said. “What are you hiding there?”
“I’m not hiding anything,” the boy answered. But one of them seized the boy and yanked him back out of the hole.
Another, who was searching the boy’s bags, found the piece of gold. “There’s gold here,” he said.
The moon shone on the face of the Arab who had seized him, and in the man’s eyes the boy saw death.
“He’s probably got more gold hidden in the ground.” They made the boy continue digging, but he found nothing.
As the sun rose, the men began to beat the boy.
He was bruised and bleeding, his clothing was torn to shreds, and he felt that death was near.
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