lthy face, no one  would ever suspect  he had
been seriously ill so recently.
     His  cheeks were a  soft, even  shade of old-age pink. His step  was as
light and  as quick as  always, and  a broad smile lighted his artless face.
And only Volka,  who knew  Hottabych so  well, noticed that a secret thought
was  constantly gnawing at the old Genie. Hottabych often sighed, he stroked
his  beard thoughtfully, and  large tears would  ever so often roll from his
frank, friendly eyes.
     Volka  would  pretend not to notice and did not bother the old man with
tactless questions. He  was convinced that in the end Hottabych would be the
first to speak. That is exactly what happened.
     "Grief  and  sadness rent  my old  heart, 0  noble  saviour of Genies,"
Hottabych said softly one day when a magnificent sunset coloured the evening
waters  of the  Moskva River  a delicate  pink.  "Thoughts of my  poor  lost
brother and of his terrible and hapless fate do not  leave me for  a moment.
The more I think of him, the more I feel I should set out to search  for him
as soon  as possible. What do  you think of this,  0 wise Volka ibn Alyosha?
And  if  you regard this  decision kindly, would  you  not make me happy  by
sharing the joys and sorrows of this journey with me?"
     "Where do you want to start looking for your brother?" Volka asked in a
business-like way, since he was  no longer surprised at  the most unexpected
suggestions Hottabych might have.
     "If  you  remember, 0 Volka,  at  the very dawn of  our extremely happy
acquaintance, I told you that Sulayman's  Genies threw  him into one of  the
Southern Seas, sealed in a copper vessel. There, along the shores of the hot
countries, is where one must naturally look for Omar Asaf."
     The possibility of setting out on a journey to the Southern Seas really
appealed to Volka.
     "All right. I'll come  along with you. Wherever you go,  I go. It would
be nice if.. ." Volka fumbled.
     But a cheerful Hottabych continued: ".. .if we could take our wonderful
friend  Zhenya ibn  Kolya  along. Have I understood you correctly, 0 my kind
Volka ibn Alyosha?"
     "Uh-huh."
     "There could not have been a  shadow of doubt,"  Hottabych said. It was
decided  then  and there  that  the expedition setting  out  to  search  for
Hottabych's unfortunate brother would leave no later than in two days' time.
     However, if the  time of departure caused ho discord, it quite suddenly
became apparent that there  were  serious  differences on  the question of a
means of transportation.
     "Let's  go by magic  carpet," Hottabych suggested. "There's enough room
for all of us."
     "Oh no," Volka objected strongly. "No more magic carpets for me. Thanks
a lot! Our  last trip was enough for me. I don't want to freeze like a dog a
second time."
     "I'll  supply you both with warm clothing, 0  blessed Volka. And if you
so desire, a large bonfire will constantly burn in the middle of the carpet.
We can warm ourselves beside it during our flight."
     "No, no,  no!  The magic carpet is out of the  question.  Let's  go  to
Odessa by train. Then, from Odessa...."
     Hottabych immediately accepted Volka's plan and Zhenya, who was told of
it in detail a short half hour later, enthusiastically approved.


        THE STORY  TOLD BY THE CONDUCTOR OF  THE MOSCOW-ODESSA EXPRESS  OF WHAT
HAPPENED ON THE NARA-MALY YAROSLAYETS LINE
     (Told  by  the conductor to  Ms  assistant,  who  was asleep during the
events described herein)

     "I woke you  up just to tell you that a very strange thing has happened
in our car.
     "Well, I made  up the beds for the passengers, the same as  always, and
the ones in Compartment 7, too. The passengers there were a bearded old bird
in  an  old-fashioned  straw boater and two boys. The boys  looked about the
same age. And what do you think: not a single piece of luggage !No, sir, not
a single one!
     "Just then, one of the boys, a blond freckled lad, says:
     " 'Can you please tell us where the dining car is?'
     "And I says, 'I'm sorry, but we don't  have a  dining car, There'll  be
tea and crackers in the morning.'
     "Then the boy looks at the old man and the old man winks at him. So the
boy says, 'Never  mind, we'll manage  without your tea, since you  haven't a
dining car.'
     " 'Ha,' I thought, 'I'd like to see how you'll make  out all the way to
Odessa without my tea.' So I came back here to our compartment, but I left a
chink in the door when I closed it.
     "Everyone in the car was sound asleep, having sweet dreams, but all the
time there was buzz-buzz-buzz coming from Compartment 7-they kept on talking
and  whispering all the time.  I couldn't  hear what they were saying, but I
can tell you for sure they were talking.
     "Then suddenly their  door  opens and the  same old man  sticks out his
head. He didn't notice me watching him so  he pushed his old  hat  back. And
what d'you think he  did? Upon my word,  I'm tellin' the truth! He pulled  a
fistful of hair from his beard-may I drop dead on the spot if he didn't!
     " 'Goodness,' I  thought, 'he's crazy! Just my  luck  to  get a  madman
while I'm on duty.'  Well, I  didn't  say anything and  waited to see what'd
happen.
     "Well, the old man tore this same  fistful of hair into little  pieces,
then he threw this litter on  the floor  and mumbled something. I  felt more
and more sure he was mad and that  I'd  have  to put  him off at Bryansk, no
doubt about it.
     " 'Well,'  I  thought, 'there'll be no end of worry! Why,  maybe  he'll
start attacking the passengers this very minute, or breaking the windows!'
     "No, he didn't start any trouble, but just stood there  mumbling. After
he mumbled a while more, he went back into his compartment.
     "All of  a sudden  I heard someone  walking barefoot  down the passage,
coming from behind. That meant whoever it was had come in from the platform.
I sure  was surprised,  because I always lock the platforms when we pull out
of a station.  Well, I looked round, and-upon  my sacred word of honour, I'm
telling  the  truth!-I saw four young  fellows  coming towards  me from  the
platform. They were as sunburned as vacationers  and quite  naked. All  they
had on were little cloths round their hips. And barefoot. As skinny as could
be! You could count every rib.
     "I came out of  our compartment  and  said, 'Citizens, I believe you've
got your cars mixed. All our compartments are occupied.'
     "And they all answered together, 'Silence, infidel! We know where we're
going! We've come exactly to the place we want.'
     "So I says, 'Then I'd like to see your tickets, please.'
     "And they all said together again, 'Don't annoy us,  foreigner,  for we
are hurrying to our lord and master!'
     "So I says, 'I'm surprised that you call me a  foreigner. I'm a  Soviet
citizen and I'm in my  own country. That's for one. And in the second place,
we haven't had any masters  here since the Revolution. That,' I said, 'is in
the second place.'
     "So their leader says,  'You should be ashamed, infidel! You are taking
advantage of the fact that our hands are occupied  and  we  therefore cannot
kill you for your terrible insolence. It , is most  dishonourable of  you to
take advantage of us so.'
     "I forgot to tell you that they were piled high with all sorts of food.
One was carrying a heavy tray  with roast lamb and  rice. Another had a huge
basket of apples, pears, apricots and grapes.
     The third one was balancing something that looked like a pitcher on his
head, and something was splashing inside the pitcher. The fourth was holding
two large platters of meat pies  and pastries. To tell you the truth, I just
stood there gaping.
     "Then  the leader says, 'Infidel,  you'd  do  better to  show  us where
Compartment 7 is, for we are in a hurry to fulfil our orders.'
     "Then I began to put two  and two  together and asked,  'What does your
boss look like? Is he a little old man with a beard?'
     " 'Yes, that is he. That is whom we serve.'
     "I  showed them to Compartment 7, and on  the way I said, 'I'll have to
fine your boss for letting you travel without tickets. Have you been working
for him long?'
     "So the leader says,  'We've been serving him  for  three thousand five
hundred years."
     "To tell you the truth, I thought  I  didn't  hear him right. So I says
again, 'How many years did you say?'
     "  'You heard  me, that's  exactly  how long we've  served  him-  three
thousand five hundred years.'
     "The other three nodded.
     " 'Good gracious,'  I thought, 'as if one crazy man wasn't enough-now I
have four more on my neck!'
     "But I  went  on talking to them  as I would to  any normal passengers.
'What a shame!  Look how many years you've been working for him and he can't
even get you some ordinary overalls. If you'll pardon the expression, you're
absolutely naked.'
     "So the leader says, 'We don't need  overalls. We don't  even know what
they are.'
     " 'It's strange to hear that coming  from someone  who's worked so many
years. I guess you're from far away. Where d'you live?'
     " 'We've just come from Ancient Arabia.'
     "Then I says, 'Well,  that  clears everything up. Here's Compartment 7.
Knock on the door.'
     "Just then, the same little old man comes out and  all his  men fall to
their knees  and stretch  out  the  food and drinks  they've  brought. But I
called the old man off to a side and said, 'Are these your employees?'
     " 'Yes, they are.'
     "  'They have no tickets. That  means you have  to pay a fine. Will you
pay it?'
     " 'Right  away, if you wish. But won't  you first tell me  what a  fine
is?'
     "I saw the old man was being  sensible, so I began to explain things in
a whisper, 'One of your men has gone out of his mind:
     he  says he's been  working  for  you for  three thousand  five hundred
years. I'm sure you'll agree he's crazy.'
     "Then  the  old man says, 'I cannot agree, since he is  not lying. Yes,
that's right-three thousand five hundred years. Even a  little longer, since
I  was  only  two  hundred  or  two hundred  and thirty  when I became their
master.'
     "So I says to  him, 'Stop making a  fool of me! It  doesn't become your
age. If you don't  pay the fine immediately, I'll put them off  at  the next
station. And, anyway, you look  like a suspicious character, going on such a
long journey without any luggage.'
     " 'What's luggage?'
     " 'You know, bundles, suitcases and such stuff.'
     "The  old man  laughed  and  said, 'Why are  you  inventing  things,  0
conductor? Saying that I have no luggage. Just look at the shelves.'
     "I looked  up at the luggage racks  and they were jammed! I'd  looked a
moment  before  and  there  hadn't  been  anything there,  and suddenly-just
imagine!-so many suitcases and bundles!
     "Then I  said,  'Something's wrong here. Pay the fine  quickly and I'll
bring  the chief  conductor over at the  next stop. Let him decide.  I can't
understand what's going on.'
     "The  old man laughed again.  'What fine?' says he. 'Whom do I  have to
pay a fine for?'
     "Then  I really got angry. I turned around and  pointed to the passage,
but there was no one there! I ran  up  and down the whole  car, but couldn't
find a trace of my four stray passengers.
     "Then  the old man said,  '0  conductor, you had better go back to your
own compartment.' And so I went back.
     "Now d'you understand why I woke you up? Don't you believe me?"
     An  hour  before the  train  arrived  in Odessa, the  conductor entered
Compartment 7 to remove the bedding. Hottabych treated him to some apples.
     It was  quite  apparent that the man did  not remember anything  of the
incident which had taken place the night before.
     After  he had left their  compartment, Zhenya said with admiration:  "I
must admit, Volka is a bright chap!"
     "I  should  think  so!"  Hottabych  exclaimed.  "Volka  ibn Alyosha  is
unquestionably an excellent fellow and his  suggestion is  worthy  of  great
praise."
     Since  the reader  might not be too clear on the meaning of this  short
conversation, we hurry to explain.
     When the completely confused conductor left Compartment 7 the  previous
night,  Volka said to Hottabych,  "Can you do something to  make  him forget
what's happened?"
     "Why, 0 Volka ibn Alyosha, that's as simple as pie."
     "Then please  do it and as quickly as possible. He'll go to sleep then,
and when he wakes up in the morning he won't remember anything."
     "Excellent,   0  treasure-store   of  common  sense!"   Hottabych  said
admiringly, waved his hand and made the conductor forget everything.

        THE STRANGE SAILING SHIP

     Several passengers were talking leisurely as they leaned on the rail of
the  excursion  ship  "Kolkhida,"  sailing from Odessa to  Batumi.  Powerful
diesel engines hummed  far  below,  in the depths  of  the  ship. The  water
whispered  dreamily as  it lapped against the steep  sides, and high  above,
over the spar deck, the ship's wireless piped anxiously.
     "You  know, it's  really a shame that the large sailing ships  of yore,
those white-winged beauties, are a thing of the  past. How happy I  would be
to  find myself on a real frigate...  .  Just  to enjoy the  sight  of those
billowing white sails, to listen to  the creaking of the mighty yet graceful
masts, to  watch  in  amazement  as,  at  the  captain's command,  the  crew
scrambles  up the rigging! If I could only see a real sailing ship! I mean a
real  genuine one! Nowadays even a bark has to have a motor,  you know, even
though-mark my words-it's considered a sailboat!"
     "A motor-sailboat," a  man wearing  the uniform  of the Merchant Marine
added. They fell silent. All except the sailor went over to the left side to
watch a school of  tireless dolphins splash  and cavort  in the warm noonday
sea.  Dolphins were nothing new to  the sailor. He stretched out  in a  deck
chair and picked up a  magazine lazily.  Soon  the  sun  made him drowsy. He
closed the magazine and fanned himself with it.
     Then something attracted his  attention.  He  stopped  fanning himself,
jumped to  his feet  and  rushed  to  the railing.  Far off,  near  the very
horizon, he saw a beautiful but terribly old-fashioned sailing ship skimming
over the waves. It seemed like something from a fairy tale.
     "Everybody!  Everybody  hurry  over  here!"  he  shouted. "Look at that
sailing ship! Isn't it ancient! Oh, and something's wrong with its mainmast!
It doesn't have a mainmast!  Why,  it just isn't there!  My  goodness!  Just
look!  The sails are all billowed  out the wrong way! According to every law
of nature,  the  foremast should  have been blown  overboard long  ago! It's
really a miracle!"
     However, by the time the other passengers heeded his words and returned
to the starboard side, the unknown vessel had disappeared from sight. We say
"unknown," because  the sailor was ready to swear that the wonderful sailing
ship was not  registered at any Soviet port  on the Black Sea. This is true.
In fact,  it  wasn't registered  at  any  foreign  port,  either;  it wasn't
registered any place,  for  the  simple reason  that it had appeared  in the
world and was launched but a few short hours before.
     The  name  of  the vessel  was  the  "Sweet  Omar,"  in honour  of  the
unfortunate brother of our old friend, Hassan Abdurrakhman ibn Hottab.


        ABOARD THE "SWEET OMAR"

     Had our friend the conductor on  the Moscow-Odessa express miraculously
found himself aboard the twin-masted  "Sweet Omar," he would  not have  been
most amazed  at the fact that he had suddenly found himself aboard a sailing
vessel,  nor that  this vessel did  not in any way resemble  a  usual sea or
river  craft. He  would have been most amazed at finding that he was already
acquainted with the passengers and crew.
     The  old man and his  two young  companions who had  left Compartment 7
that morning were its passengers, while the four dark-skinned citizens whose
term of service dated back to the 16th century B.C. were its crew.
     One  can  well  imagine  that a second encounter would have landed  the
impressive conductor in bed for a long time.
     Despite  the fact  that  Volka  and  Zhenya  had become  accustomed  to
witnessing  the  most unexpected events during the past few days,  they were
most  amazed  to  find  their  recent acquaintances aboard the  ship and  to
discover that they were also excellent sailors.
     After the  boys had stood gazing at  the quick and skilful movements of
the small crew scurrying up and down the riggings just as if  they were on a
polished floor, they went  to explore  the rest  of  the ship.  It was  very
beautiful,  but  small-no  larger  than  a  Moscow  river  launch.  However,
Hottabych assured  them that even Sulayman, the Son of David, did not have a
ship as big as the "Sweet Omar."
     Everything  on the ship glittered with cleanliness  and  splendour. Its
sides and high, carved  bow  and stern were inlaid with gold  and ivory. The
priceless  rosewood deck was covered with rugs as magnificent as those which
adorned the cabins.
     That is why Volka was so surprised at suddenly coming  upon a dark  and
filthy cubby-hole in the prow. In it were plank beds covered with rags.
     As he looked in disgust at  the meagre  furnishings of this  tiny room,
Zhenya joined him. After careful scrutiny, Zhenya decided the unsightly hole
was intended for the pirates they might capture on the way.
     "Not  at all," Volka persisted. "This place was forgotten about after a
complete overhauling. Sometimes, after repairs,  there's a forgotten  corner
full of rags and all kinds of rubbish."
     "What do  you  mean  by 'a complete overhauling' when this ship  didn't
even exist this morning?" Zhenya protested.
     Volka had no answer  to this  question, and so the boys set off to find
Hottabych,  to ask him to help solve the mystery. But they found the old man
asleep and thus  did not speak to him until an  hour or two later, at dinner
time.
     Tucking their feet under them  uncomfortably, they sat down on a thick,
brightly-coloured carpet.  There were neither chairs nor tables in the cabin
or anywhere else on board.
     One of the crew  remained above at the wheel, while the others  brought
in  and placed before  them many various dishes, fruits  and beverages. When
they turned to leave, the boys called to them:
     "Why are you leaving?"
     And Volka added politely, "Aren't you going to have lunch?"
     The servants only shook their heads in reply.
     Hottabych was confused.
     "I must not have  been listening intently, 0  my  young friends.  For a
moment, I thought you had invited these servants to join us at the table."
     "Sure we did," Volka said. "Why, what's wrong with that?"
     "But they  are only  ordinary sailors," Hottabych objected  in  a voice
that indicated that the matter was now closed.
     However, to his great surprise, the boys held their ground.
     "All  the more  so, if they're  sailors. They're not parasites, they're
real hard workers," Volka said.
     And Zhenya added:
     "And let's  not forget that they seem to be Negroes and that means they
are an oppressed nation. That's why we should be especially considerate."
     "This seems to be a most unfortunate  misunderstanding," Hottabych said
excitedly, confused by the  solid  opposition of the  boys. "I must  ask you
again to remember that these are plain sailors. It  is not becoming to us to
sit down to eat with them. This would lower us both in their eyes and in our
own."
     ' "It wouldn't lower me at all," Volka objected heatedly.
     "Or me,  either. On the contrary,  it'll be  very  interesting," Zhenya
said,  looking at the  steaming turkey with hungry eyes.  "Hurry up  and ask
them to sit down, otherwise the turkey'll get cold."
     "I don't  feel like  eating, 0 my  young friends.  I'll eat  later on,"
Hottabych said glumly and clapped loudly three times.
     The sailors appeared immediately.
     "These young gentlemen  have kindly expressed the desire to partake  of
their meal together with you, my undeserving servants."
     "0 great and mighty ruler!" the eldest of the sailors cried, falling to
his  knees  before  Hottabych  and  touching the  precious carpet  with  his
forehead. "We don't feel like  eating at all.  We are very  full. We are  so
full, that  if  we  eat a single chicken leg our stomachs will  burst and we
will die in terrible agony."
     "They're lying!" Volka whispered to Zhenya with conviction;
     "I'm  ready  to bet  anything that they're lying.  They  wouldn't  mind
eating, but they're  afraid  of Hottabych." Then he addressed  the  sailors.
"You say  you're  full, but won't you please tell me when you've had time to
eat?"
     "Then know  ye, 0 young and noble master, that we  can go  without food
for a year or more and never feel hungry," the sailor replied evasively.
     "They'll   never  agree,  they're  afraid  of  him,"  Zhenya   said  in
disappointment.
     The sailors backed out and were gone.
     "To  my  great pleasure, I suddenly feel hungry again,"  Hottabych said
cheerfully. "Let us begin quickly."
     "No, Hottabych, you eat by yourself. We're no company  for you!" Zhenya
muttered angrily and got up. "Come on, Volka!"
     "Come on. Golly! You try  to educate  a person and change his ways, but
nothing good comes of it...."
     And so, the old man was left  alone with the untouched dinner.  He  sat
there with his legs tucked under him, as straight and stiff and solemn as an
Eastern  god. But the  moment the boys disappeared behind the  drapery  that
separated the cabin from the deck, he began to pound his head with his small
fists that were nevertheless as hard as iron.
     0 woe to him, poor Hassan  Abdurrakhman ibn Hottab!  Something had gone
wrong again!  Yet, how happily the "Sweet Omar" had started on its  journey!
How sincerely delighted the boys had been with its adornments, its sparkling
sails, the soft carpets in  which their bare feet sank  up  to their ankles,
the priceless handrails of ebony and ivory, the mighty masts covered with  a
mosaic  of precious stones! Why had  they suddenly  conceived such a strange
idea? But what if it  wasn't just an  idea or a caprice, but something quite
different?  How queer these boys  were to have refused such a feast, despite
their hunger,  and  only because his  servants were not allowed to share the
meal as equals! Oh, how puzzling and unfair it was, and how hungry, how very
hungry Hottabych was!
     While  his feeling of  attachment  for Volka and Zhenya was  struggling
with prejudices  of thousands of years' standing, our  young travellers were
discussing the situation heatedly. Hottabych's servants tried to keep out of
sight,  but one of  them,  either absent-mindedly or from  lack of  caution,
suddenly appeared from the very  cubby-hole  Volka had believed was intended
for captive pirates. Then  the dingy hole on the  luxurious "Sweet Omar" was
the sailors' quarters!
     "Oh, no!" Volka  said indignantly. "We'll  never remain on such a ship.
Either Hottabych changes the  rules  immediately, or  else we call  off  our
friendship and he gets us back home."
     Suddenly they heard Hottabych's voice behind them.
     "0 sails of my heart," the  crafty old man said, as if nothing untoward
had  happened. "Why are you  wasting  your time here on deck,  when  a  most
delightful and filling dinner awaits you?  The turkey is still steaming, but
it can get cold, and  then it certainly will taste worse. Let us  hurry back
to the cabin, for my beloved sailors and I, your faithful servant, are dying
of hunger and thirst."
     The  boys looked into the  cabin they had just left and saw the sailors
sitting primly on the rug, awaiting their return.
     "All right,"  Volka said dryly. "But  we're still going  to have a long
and serious talk with you, Hottabych. Meanwhile, let's have our dinner."
     No sooner was dinner over, than the sea became turbulent;
     the  small ship  now flew up on the crest of  a  huge wave, now plunged
down into a  deep chasm between  two tremendous walls  of water.  The  waves
thundered  and crashed as  they washed over the  deck  and carried  off  the
carpets that covered  it. Streams of water kept rushing into  the cabins. It
became chilly, but the brazier with  hot coals was tossed back  and forth so
violently that they  had to  throw  it  overboard  to prevent  a  fire.  The
servant-sailors, whose only clothing were their loincloths, turned grey from
the cold, as they battled the flapping sails.
     In another half hour  nothing but a  sad memory would have  remained of
the "Sweet Omar." However, the storm ceased as unexpectedly as it had begun.
The  sun peeped out. It became warm  again.  But everything  became terribly
calm. The sails hung  limply on  the masts and the ship began to rock softly
on the water without moving forward an inch.
     Hottabych  decided  that this was  just the time  to  improve his shaky
relations with his young companions. Rubbing his  hands together merrily, he
said, "Calm? Why you should know, 0 benevolent and just youths, that a  calm
means nothing to us. We can do fine without the wind. The 'Sweet Omar'  will
go forward  faster than ever. May  it be so!" He snapped the fingers  of his
left hand.
     Instantly  the  "Sweet  Omar" sped forward at  top  speed;  the  sails,
meeting  the resistance  of  the  air, naturally  filled out in  a direction
opposite to the ship's movement.
     In  the entire  history of  sailing  ships, no one had ever seen such a
strange sight. However, neither Volka nor Zhenya, nor  Hottabych, who at the
time the  ship started were all standing on the stern, had time to enjoy the
sight, since the sudden forward thrust threw them overboard. The next moment
the mainmast, unable  to withstand the terrible resistance  of the air, came
crashing down on the very spot  where the three travellers had been standing
but a moment before.
     The "Sweet Omar" disappeared from sight immediately.
     "A  life-boat, or even a life-saver  would  really come in  handy now,"
Volka thought as he splashed about  in the water and blew air like  a horse.
"We can't even see the shore."
     And true, no matter which way he  looked, he could  see nothing but the
calm and endless sea.

        THE "VK-1" MAGIC-CARPET-SEAPLANE

     "Where are  you going?" Volka shouted  to  Zhenya, who was swimming off
rapidly. "You  won't reach the shore anyway,  Don't waste  your energy! Turn
over and float on your back."
     Zhenya took  his advice. Hottabych  also  turned over,  holding his hat
carefully above water.
     Thus began the only  conference of shipwrecked people in the history of
sailing, in which the speakers expressed their  opinions  while floating  on
their backs.
     "Well,  we're  shipwrecked!"  Volka   said  with  something   close  to
satisfaction. He  had taken upon himself the duties of  chairman.  "What are
you planning  to  do?" he asked, noticing that  Hottabych had begun  yanking
hairs from his beard with his free hand.
     "I want to return  our  ship. It's a great stroke of luck that my beard
is completely dry."
     "There's no hurry," Volka  interrupted. "The question is: do we want to
return to it or not?  I, for one, do not. To tell  you the truth,  there are
inhuman rules aboard. It's disgusting to even think of it."
     "I agree. The 'Sweet  Omar' is out of the question," Zhenya added. "But
you  know,  Hottabych,  you'll  have  to act  quickly  to save the  sailors,
otherwise they'll go down with the ship!"
     Hottabych frowned.
     "The fate  of my  unworthy servants should not bother you  at all. They
have  been in Arabia  for not less than five minutes already.  That is where
they reside, that is  where they are now awaiting my orders. But please tell
me,  0 masts of my heart, why should we not continue our journey aboard  the
'Sweet Omar'?"
     "I thought we made that clear," Volka said.
     "And anyway, a sailing ship is too slow and unreliable. We're dependent
on every little change in the weather. No, the  'Sweet Omar' is out," Zhenya
said.
     "0  anchors of my  happiness!"  Hottabych  whined pitifully.  "I'll  do
anything to...."
     "No,  it's  out,  and  that's  the  end of  it,"  Volka interrupted and
shivered. It was most unpleasant  to  lie in the  water fully  dressed.  "It
remains to be seen what else Hottabych can suggest."
     "I can take you under my arms and fly."
     "No good!" Volka said. "Who wants to fly under somebody's arms!"
     "Not somebody's-mine!" Hottabych replied in a hurt voice.
     "It makes no difference."
     "Then  I would  venture  to suggest  to your enlightened  attention the
magic  carpet. It  is  an excellent  means  of transportation,  0  my choosy
friends!"
     "There's  nothing excellent about it. You  freeze on  it,  and it's too
slow, and there's  no comforts at all," Volka said thoughtfully and suddenly
exclaimed, "I've got it! Upon my word of honour, I have a wonderful idea!"
     At  this, he went under, as in his excitement he could think of nothing
better to do than clap  his hands. He bobbed  up again, huffing and spitting
water, and  then resumed his comfortable position on his back, continuing as
if nothing had happened:
     "We have to  modernize the magic carpet:  it should  be streamlined and
cold-resistant, and it should have bunks and be on pontoons."
     It  was  most difficult  to explain Volka's  idea  to Hottabych. In the
first place,  the  old man  did  not know what  "streamlined" meant.  In the
second place, he could not visualize a pair of pontoons.
     It would seem that "streamlined" was such  a  simple word, but they had
to explain and explain  until  they finally  hit upon the  thought of saying
that a streamlined magic carpet should look like a hollowed-out cucumber. It
also  took  a great deal of  explaining to  make  Hottabych  understand what
pontoons  were  like. Finally,  a  streamlined "VK-1"  magic-carpet-seaplane
soared into the  air and set its course at  South-South-West. In translation
to ordinary words, "VK-1" meant "Vladimir Kostylkov. First Model."
     This magic-carpet-seaplane, resembling a huge cucumber with a tiny stem
in  back, had  three berths  and two windows  on each  side, cut through the
heavy carpeting.
     The flying  qualities  of  Volka's plane were  immeasurably superior to
those  of  an ordinary  magic  carpet.  The Black  Sea,  the  Bosporus,  the
Dardanelles,  Asia Minor  and  the sun-parched plateau of Arabia flashed  by
below. Then  they saw the  yellow sands of the Sinai Desert. The thin ribbon
of the Suez Canal separated it from the no  less yellow sands of the Arabian
Desert, which was  Africa, Egypt. Hottabych  had planned to begin his search
for  Omar Asaf here, in the  Mediterranean, from  its eastern  point  to its
western  end. But no  sooner had the "VK-1" descended  to an altitude of 200
metres,  than  Hottabych   groaned  and  said   he  was  an  old  fool.  The
magic-carpet-seaplane  gained altitude  and  headed west. After  spending so
many years in  the  vessel,  Hottabych had forgotten that this was where the
Nile discharged into the Mediterranean and where the water was  always muddy
from  the  slime and sand the great river carried far out to  sea. How could
one even attempt a search in such sticky yellow mire? It would only irritate
the eyes.
     Hottabych decided to put off the exploration of this inconvenient  area
till last, if their search for Omar Asaf in other parts of the Mediterranean
proved futile.
     A short while later they landed  in  a quiet  blue lagoon close to  the
Italian city of Genoa.

        HOTTABYCH IS LOST AND FOUND AGAIN

     "Well,  wish me luck!"  Hottabych  exclaimed, turning into  a fish  and
disappearing into the lagoon.
     The  water  was  crystal-clear,  so very unlike the water  of the  Nile
Delta, and they  had a good view of the old  man working his fins quickly as
he headed for the open sea.
     While awaiting his return, the boys went in for a good dozen dips, they
dived  to their heart's content, lay in the sun  until they were dizzy, and,
finally,  with  hunger  clawing  at  their insides,  they  began  to  worry.
Hottabych had been gone for a suspiciously long time, though he had promised
not  to be  away longer than an hour.  The sun had long since set, colouring
the horizon and the calm sea in tints of amazing beauty;  thousands  of city
lights twinkled in the distance, but still the old man had not returned.
     "Could he have got lost?" Zhenya said despondently.
     "He can't get lost," Volka answered. "Chaps like him never get lost."
     "He might have been swallowed by a shark."
     "There aren't any sharks in these  waters,"  Volka objected, though  he
wasn't too sure of his words.
     "I'm hungry!" Zhenya confessed after a long silence.
     Just then, a  rowboat nosed  into the  beach with  a soft splash. Three
fishermen climbed out. One  of them began to  lay a fire of driftwood, while
the others picked out the smaller fish. They cleaned it  and threw it into a
kettle of water.
     "Let's go ask  them for something to eat," Zhenya suggested. "They look
like nice working people. I'm sure they'll give us something."
     Volka agreed.
     "Good evening, Signores!" Zhenya  bowed politely,  as he  addressed the
fishermen.
     "Just think  how many homeless children there  are  in our poor Italy!"
one of the three, a  thin,  grey-haired  man, said hoarsely. "Giovanni, give
them something to eat."
     "We've just  enough  bread  for ourselves, but there's plenty of onions
and  more than  enough salt!" a curly-haired stocky youth of about  nineteen
answered cheerfully. He was busy cleaning fish.
     "Sit down, boys. Soon the best fish soup ever cooked in or around Genoa
will be ready."
     Either the cheerful Giovanni was truly a gifted cook by nature, or else
the  boys were famished, but they agreed that they had  never eaten anything
more delicious in their lives. They ate with such gusto, smacking their lips
from sheer joy, that the fishermen watching them chuckled.
     "If  you want  some more, you can  cook  it  yourselves,  there nothing
complicated  about  it,"  Giovanni  said  and  stretched.  "We'll  doze  off
meanwhile.  Be  sure  you  don't  take any big  fishes,  they go  to  market
tomorrow, so we'll have money to pay our taxes."
     Zhenya  began  puttering  around the fire,  while Volka  rolled up  his
trousers and made his way to the boat full of fish.
     He had gathered as much  as  he  needed and was about to re turn to the
beach, when his  eyes  chanced  upon the  net folded near the mast. A lonely
fish  was  struggling frantically within, now  giving  up, now resuming  its
useless battle to free itself.
     "It will  come in handy for the chowder," Volka  said, plucking it from
the net. But it again began to struggle in  his hands, and  he suddenly felt
sorry for it. He turned round to make sure the fishermen weren't looking and
threw it back into the water.
     The fish made a small splash as it hit  the  dark surface of the lagoon
and turned into a beaming Hottabych.
     "May  the  day  upon  which  you  were  born   be  forever  blessed,  0
kind-hearted  son  of  Alyosha!"  he  exclaimed  gratefully,   as  he  stood
waist-deep in water. "Once again you've saved my life A few moments more and
I would have choked in that net. got foolishly trapped in it while searching
for my unfortunate brother."
     "Hottabych, old man! What a great fellow  you are  for being alive!  We
were so worried!"
     "And I, too,  was tortured by the thought that you, 0 twice my saviour,
and our young friend were left alone and hungry in an alien country."
     "We're  not  hungry at  all. These fishermen  really treated  us  to  a
feast."
     "May these kind people be blessed! Are they rich?"
     "I think they're very poor."
     "Then let's hurry, and I will return their kindness generously."
     "I don't think it's the right thing to do," Volka said after a moment's
pause. "Put yourself in their place: suddenly you see a wet old man climbing
out of the water in the middle of the night. No, this is no good at all."
     "You're right as always,"  Hottabych agreed.  "Return to the shore  and
I'll join you presently."
     A short while later, the sleeping fishermen were awakened  by the sound
of an approaching horse. Soon  a  strange rider stopped  at  the smouldering
fire.
     He was an old man in  a cheap  linen suit and a hard straw  boater. His
magnificent beard was wind-blown, disclosing to all  who  cared  to look  an
embroidered Ukrainian shirt. He  wore  a pair of gold and silver embroidered
pink  slippers  with  funny  turned-up toes. His  feet  were  placed in gold
stirrups that were studded with diamonds and emeralds. The saddle upon which
he sat was so  magnificent that it was surely  worth a fortune. The prancing
horse  was of  indescribable  beauty. In each  hand the old man held a large
leather suitcase.
     "Would you please  direct me to the  noble fishermen who have so kindly
taken  in and fed two lonely, hungry boys?"  he  said to Giovanni,  who  had
risen to greet him.
     Without waiting  for an  answer,  he dismounted, and,  with  a  sigh of
relief, set the suitcases on the sand.
     "What's the matter? Do you know them?" Giovanni asked cautiously.
     "Certainly I know my young friends!" Hottabych cried, embracing each in
turn as they ran up to him.
     Then he addressed the startled fishermen:
     "Believe me, 0 most honourable of all fishermen,  when  I say I do  not
know how to thank you enough for your precious hospitality and kindness!"
     "Why, there's nothing to thank us for. Not for the fish certainly?" the
grey-haired fisherman said in surprise. "It didn't Set us back much, believe
me, Signore."
     "These are the words of a truly selfless man, and they only increase my
feeling  of gratitude. Permit me  to  repay you with  these  modest  gifts,"
Hottabych said, handing a dumb-founded Giovanni the two suitcases.
     "There  must be some mistake,  0  respected Signore,"  Giovanni uttered
after exchanging puzzled glances  with his companions. "Why, you can buy  at
least a  thousand chowders like the one we shared with the boys for two such
suitcases. I don't  want you to think it was a very special kind of chowder.
We're poor people...."
     "It is you who are mistaken, 0 most modest  of all kind-hearted people!
Within these  excellent  boxes  which  you  call by  the scholarly  name  of
'suitcase' are riches that are thousands and thousands of times greater than
the cost of your soup. Nonetheless, I consider they cannot pay  for it,  for
there is nothing more precious in the world than disinterested hospitality."
     He opened the suitcases and  everyone saw  that they  were crammed with
magnificent, live, silvery fish.
     While the fishermen were still wondering what sense there was in giving
fishermen fish, Hottabych emptied  the quivering  contents  of the suitcases
onto the  sand.  It  was  then  that  the three men  gasped in  surprise and
amazement: in some strange way, both suitcases were found to be crammed full
of fish again! Hottabych emptied the suitcases once  again, and  once  again
they were filled with the marvellous gifts of the sea. This was  repeated  a
fourth and a fifth time.
     "And now," Hottabych said, enjoying the impression he had made, "if you
wish, you can test the wonderful  qualities of these 'suitcases' yourselves.
Never again will you have to shiver  in your little dingy in foul weather or
in the fog of early dawn. You will no longer have to pray to Allah for luck,
you will  never again have to drag about the market-place with heavy baskets
of  fish. You need only take  along one of  these  'suitcases' and give  the
customer  exactly  as  much  as he  wants. But I beg  you,  do not  object,"
Hottabych  said  when  he  noticed that  the  fishermen were  about  to  say
something. "I assure you, there has been no mistake. May your life be  happy
and cloudless, 0 most noble of fishermen! Farewell! Hop up here, boys!"
     With  Giovanni's  help,  the  boys  climbed  into  the  saddle   behind
Hottabych.
     "Farewell,  Signore! Good-bye, boys!" the dazed  fishermen  shouted, as
they watched the surprising strangers disappear in the distance.
     "Even if these were ordinary  suitcases,  not magic ones, we  could get
many liras for them," Giovanni said thoughtfully.
     "Well, I think  we'll  finally be able  to make ends meet now, Pietro,"
the oldest  of the three  added.  He  was cl