# Zodiac Stories/Aquarius

AQUARIUS, THE WATER-CARRIER.
HE sun had set over the rim of the desert.
A pink flush showed where it had disappeared. Overhead, the sky was pale blue.
A little group, consisting of a man, a woman, two children, and a camel, reposed under a lonely rock whose top rose dark against the light in the west. The faces of these travellers were sad and anxious, for the younger of the two children lay fainting with fever in the mother's arms.
"Woe is unto us, Hassan," said the woman, addressing her husband, "woe is unto us that we came on the pilgrimage; ​and woe be to those with whom we came—those who have even left us to die here, and who are themselves already at Mecca, if the Bedouin have not stayed and slain them!"
"Speak not so bitterly, O wife of my heart!" answered the man, laying his hand on her head tenderly. "Thy soul is grieved for the child. Be of good comfort; it may be that she will yet mend." But though he thus sought to cheer his wife, his face betrayed his own fears.
"Give me a draught of water!" moaned the sick girl, turning in her mother's embrace and opening her large, unnaturally bright eyes. The woman groaned.
"If we had but so much as one drop!" she cried. "Thinkest thou, O my husband, that a spring is anywhere in this wilderness?"
The man shook his head, and his dark eyes were very sorrowful as he gazed at the far horizon.
At this moment, the elder child rose ​suddenly from his place at his mother's feet, and spoke earnestly, his beautiful young face lighting up with the glow of his thought.
"O my father and my mother—I will go and find a spring!" he said.
Both parents gazed lovingly upon him. But Hassan made reply,——
"Thou art not able to go forth alone and unguided into the desert, son; thou couldst find no water, and thou wouldst but lose thyself and see us no more."
"Heaven forbid it!" cried the poor mother, clasping the boy's hand tightly in her own. "If it is decreed that we are to die, let us die together."
"But we need not die," urged the boy. "Did not the Lord send His angel to show Hagar a fountain in the wilderness when Ishmael was like to perish? Hast thou not often told the story to Nejmeh and to me? And can He not now show me a spring? Let me go!" ​"Water!" murmured the girl feebly, "Water!"
Abdallah threw himself upon his knees, and kissed his parents' hands.
"Let me go!" he entreated, "for if I go not she will die!"
They hesitated. Then the mother said eagerly,——
"A good thought has come to me, my husband. Let Abdallah take with him my necklace of many green and white beads, and at every sixth step, let him drop one upon the sand. Thus may he find his way back to us,—or, if not, thou canst by this means follow and find him."
"Wisely dost thou counsel, Kadijah," answered Hassan. "Do as thy mother bids thee, Abdallah, and the blessing of the Most High go with thee."
Abdallah was filled with joy at his parents' consent. His eyes shone as he thanked them. Then he bent down to kiss his little sister's brow, and held out ​his hand for the necklace. The man and the woman watched him as he went from them out into the waste, and a sob rose to Kadijah's lips. They could see his slight figure for some time, but after a while it vanished, and the great desert was void again.
Abdallah walked slowly along, carefully remembering to drop a bead at every sixth step, and keeping a keen watch at the same time for a water-spring. It seemed to him that he had gone thus a long way, and seen nothing like what he sought,—when suddenly, very near to him, he beheld seven tall palm trees with glistening tops which still caught the light of the sinking sun, long since lost to the lower levels. At their feet, in the midst of a circle of rich green grass, leaped a silvery fountain. Abdallah rubbed his eyes. Could it be true? Yes,—it was not a mirage, but a real water-spring. He threw himself on the ground, his forehead ​touching the sand, and thanked Allah for the marvel. Then he hastened to fill the water-skin which his father had given him, and stopping only for an instant to take a hasty draught himself, for his own thirst was painful, he turned back towards the distant rock with his burden. The green and white beads shone against the tawny sand, and guided his steps. But what was this?
Sitting by the way was an aged man, in ragged clothing, holding in his left hand a pilgrim's staff, while he held the right outstretched to Abdallah. His sunken eyes were fixed longingly upon the water-skin and he said faintly,—
"Stay my son! Let me drink of the water you bear, for I am parched with cruel thirst. I have yet many leagues to travel, and if I may but refresh myself I shall perhaps be able to reach my journey's end ere night falls."
Abdallah was troubled. He felt that ​he ought not to delay an instant, and yet it was a duty to help the suffering, and to respect the aged. And this old man was a pilgrim—a good, devout, old man, who certainly should not be allowed to faint of thirst. So he came near, and held his water-skin to the old man's lips, and did not complain when he took a long and deep draught, though he wished that less might have satisfied him.
"The blessing of the Most High go with thee, my son, and may He, the Merciful, grant that thou and thine never want for water," said the pilgrim.
So the boy once more fastened the skin in its place, and hastened on, picking up the scattered beads as he went.
He had just taken up the fourth bead, when, to his great surprise, he saw a black goat stretched out upon the sand before him. Its eyes were raised beseechingly to his face, and it bleated feebly as if asking aid. Evidently it also was in need of ​water. Again Abdallah hesitated, wondering what he ought to do. How could he wait—how could he waste the precious
liquid he had come so far to find? And at the same time, how could he leave this poor creature to die? He gave a deep sigh, and drawing closer to the goat, poured some water into its mouth.
​The goat's eyes now looked gratefully up into his, and, to the boy's astonishment, it got upon its feet, and shaking its head quite friskily, sprang away into the desert.
Abdallah now made such haste to go on that he almost ran. Darkness was falling, and he could only see the beads with difficulty. He felt afraid that very soon he should not be able to see them at all. And his parents—what would they think had happened to him?
His steps were suddenly stayed—a fresh hindrance was to be met. Right in his way, so that he had almost run against it, lay a gaunt, starved-looking dog. Abdallah had grown used to seeing sudden appearances, but he started at this one for he had been sure that he would not again be interrupted. And this time he made up his mind that he would not stop to give away any more of his already diminished store of water. Perhaps he had been foolish to give away any of it; at least he would ​save the rest for Nejmeh—poor, darling Nejmeh, who had waited all this time, and who needed it so much! He resolutely shut his eyes in order not to see the unfortunate dog, and put both hands over his ears so as not to hear it moan, and would have passed by; but the dog, as if reading his thoughts, summoned up all its weak strength, and threw itself in front of him so that he stumbled over its body. He opened his eyes and met the dying animal's gaze. And he knew that it had conquered, for he could not leave it to perish now. With a heavy heart he lifted its head on his knee and poured a few drops of water down its throat; not many, for so little water was left by this time!
And then, once more, Abdallah started forth, running fast through the twilight, panting and despairing of reaching the high rock before the night fell, but hoping,—hoping that somehow, in some way ​beyond his knowing,—Nejmeh would yet be saved from death.
But why did he come to a standstill, and raise his hand to his eyes as if the sun which had set so long before, dazzled him?
No pilgrim, no goat, no dog was before him now, but a beautiful being whose eyes shone like stars, with wings whose golden feathers swept the dust, and whose raiment was like the full moon,—so radiant in its whiteness. Abdallah drew back in awe and was about to throw himself at the feet of the vision, but it held up a finger to check his impulse, and at the same time smiled so tenderly at him that he ceased to be afraid.
"Knowest thou me, son?" asked the bright apparition.
"Thou art one of the angels of the Most High," answered Abdallah reverently.
"And thou hast already seen me three ​times this day; dost thou remember me?"
Abdallah shook his head.
"Surely I remember thee not! When did I see thee before, thou blessed one?"
The angel smiled yet more sweetly into the boy's wondering face.
"Yet hast thou both seen and served me," he said; "I was the aged pilgrim, and the thirsty goat, and the dying dog to which thou gavest drink. And now thou shalt never lack water to quench thy thirst and that of thy house, all the days of thy life. Thou didst not grudge to give when thou hadst need thyself; therefore is the water-skin full at thy girdle; and for the necklace—behold, it is again in thy bosom. Haste thee, Abdallah, 'Servant of God,' and the blessing of the Merciful go with thee."
Then the boy saw the angel no longer; but the high rock rose of a sudden close at hand, and he sprang forward, crying:
​"My father! my mother! Nejmeh! I bring you water—water from heaven!"
To his joy, Nejmeh, looking in perfect health, ran to him, and cast her arms about his neck. Also, his parents embraced him.
Then they all praised Allah for His great mercies; and Abdallah sat at his mother's feet, and told all that had befallen since he left them, and they drank of the water and gave their good camel his fill; and at the end, the skin was as full as at the beginning.
After which, Kadijah asked for the beads of her necklace, and at once Abdallah drew from the bosom of his tunic—not a necklace of common beads, but a string of emeralds and pearls, each one as large as a palm-seed.
Then they gave praises anew. And when it was day, they went on their journey to Mecca.
But the word of the angel was fulfilled ​to Abdallah, for in the years that came after, never did he or his lack water to drink and to bestow on those who were in need thereof.