“My white donkey,” he continued, “is not an ordinary one. He is a wise animal. My donkey cannot speak our language. But I can understand his language. He will soon tell me who stole your bag.”

Then he looked at his men and said. “Now I order each of you to go into the tent alone. Close the flap of the tent so that no one can see you except the donkey and God. Pull my donkey’s tail. When an innocent hand touches his tail, he will be silent. But when the hand of the thief touches his tail, the donkey will speak to us all in his language. We will take the thief and kill him without mercy.”

As soon as he finished, he ordered the last man in the row to go into the tent first. He went in and came out. All the others went in and came out. Nothing happened. I thought that the donkey was not so wise, after all.

But Mahmoud Ibn Moosa said to me quietly, “Don’t worry. It is all right. You will get your gold soon.” I wondered how. Moosa asked all his men to stand in a line.” Hold your hands in front of you with the palms up,” he shouted. Each man held out his hands. The Sheik then walked slowly to the row. He bent down and laid his face on the palms of each one’s hands. I was amazed when he did this again and again. He came to the twelfth man and laid his face on the man’s palms. Suddenly he lifted his face, pulled out his sword and shouted, “You dirty thief! Get that gold, or I will kill you at once!”