A Losing Race

Northern Advocate, 30 March 1937, Page 8

A Losing Race

Abdul and Ali were quarrelling again, and, of course, about the same thing. “None but a blockhead would suggest that my horse was not the swifter axxd more beautiful,” said Abdul. “You seem to be forgetting,” Ali exclaimed, “how far behind my horse left yours last week!” The old Arab, their father, pulled his beard in fury. These sons of his were driving him mad with their perpetual squabbling. He began to wish he had never given them the horses of which they were so terribly proud. And for his part he could not tell the horses apart ;they were brothers, exactly alike in size and colour—both beautiful animals. Abdul and Ali, of course, insisted that the horses were very different, but it was a fact that each, before mounting, looked to see that on the saddle cloth his name and not his brother’s was embroidered. The old man grew so tired of their boasting and arguing that at last he said, “If either of you ever mentions horses to me again I’ll cut that one out of my will.”

But, greedy as they were for money, Abdul and Ali simply could not stop talkxxxg about their horses, and at last the old man hit upon a plan to punish them. He made a new ’ will, which said that directly after his death his two sons were to race their horses from the village in which they lived to the city of Bagdad, and that all his money should go to the son whose horse lost the race! If either refused to race under these conditions the money was to go to the other, and if both refused the money was to be given to the local sheik.

So, when the old Arab died, arrangements were made at once for the race to take place. At the hour appointed for the start both brothers climbed as slowly as possible into their saddles, and holding back with difficulty their eager horses, ambled off across the desert. Each was puzzled as to how he should make the other win, and for the whole of the first day they simply rode along side by side at as slow a pace as the horses would permit. When night came they pulled up at the same village, and, tethering their horses separately, ate the evening meal and went to sleep. Next morning Ali kept his horse down to a walk, so Abdul made his walk even more slowly. Ali stopped for a while, but Abdul did the same. Ali started again, and Abdul kept pace with him. All day this went on, so that by nightfall they had covered but a very few miles; they had not even reached a second village, so had to beg shelter from a hermit, who had his cave in the middle of the desert.

The Hermit’s Advice. Both were now worried out of their wits. To have a chance for the prize both must reach Bagdad eventually, yet neither wanted to get there first. The hermit noticed their distress, and asked, its cause; so they told him the whole story. The old hermit, who was really very wise, wandered out into the desert to think. He stroked his beard, looked at the stars, and stroked his beard again. Then he went to sleep for a little—he was, really a very old man—and finally woke up with the great inspiration. Hurrying back to the cave he found the weary brothers fast asleep. Very

quietly he roused Ali, and with his finger to his lips led him outdoors. For a minute or so he whispered in the young man’s ear, and then sent him, smiling and rubbing his hands in glee, back to sleep.

But no sooner were Ali’s snores once more re-echoing through the cave than the old man roused Abdul and went through the same performance with him.

The next morning the two brothers rose, thanked the hermit for his hospitality, and each one, unknown to the other, winked at the old man as; if to thank him for his good advice. The horses were ready saddled, and hurriedly mounting, the two dashed off to Bagdad as fast as they could. Mile after mile they thundered on, first one drawing ahead slightly, then the other, but in the last mile the horse ridden by Ali , began to tire slightly, and Abdul reached the city gates a few yards ahead of his brother.

Leaping off, he rushed up to the judges, who were awaiting the brothers, and claimed his father’s fortune!

But, you w;ill probably say, how could this be, If Abdul arrived first, should not the money, under the conditions of the will, have gone to All?

Not necessarily—and for this reason: The will said that the money was to be given to the brother whose horse lost the race, and the cunning old hermit in the desert had seen' the only way out. While the brothers slept he changed the saddles on the brothers’ horses, putting Ali’s saddle on Abdul’s horse, .and Abdul’s saddle on Ali’s. And, as the saddles were really the only way the brothers could tell their horses apart, when they started off that morning each was riding the other’s horse, as he knew; but each thought the other was unaware of the change, since the hermit had spoken to them separately.

And so Ali spurred on Abdul’s horse to let his own lose the race, while Abdul dashed gallantly ahead into the gates of Bagdad he knew that his horse, ridden by Ali, had lost him the race, and won him the prize.