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mosque’s green iron gate. We both rushed to the building’s entrance.
    Abdelkarim threw open the iron bolt and opened the gate wide. On the street stood a ten-year-old boy, barefoot and dressed in grimy clothing. From his belt hung an old Luger. His upper lip was quivering. He tapped his foot nervously. His eyes twitched.
    “Thank you for opening the gate,” he said.
    “What brings you here, Abdul Muhyi?” asked my host. “And where is your clan?”
    “The devil has come to the hills,” said the boy.
    That was the first time I heard about the black dog.
    Abdelkarim lit a gas lantern on the wall of the prayer room, the light revealing a green prayer carpet. Abdul Muhyi sat against the wall and gulped water from a goatskin sack. The liquid dribbled down his chin and gathered in dark stains on his robe. He drank deep and long as we waited for him to continue his story.
    “I was putting the goats out to graze by the cave tomb as usual,” said the boy once he was ready. “I heard movement coming from inside. I thought somebody from the town had come to dig up a body, so I went in. The cave was dark, and at first I couldn’t see a thing.…” His voice became clenched and he began to shiver.
    “And what did you see, Abdul Muhyi?” asked my host.
    “Bismillah, the devil! The devil was in the tomb in the form of a dog. He was eating human flesh and drinking blood.” As he told the story, the boy’s face strained with fear, and he paused repeatedly to recite the
Shahada.
    “And why do you think it was the devil and not just some stray dog? You know they have been hunting in packs up in the hills since the war broke out.”
    “His eyes glowed red.”
    “That’s just how they look in the dark. I wonder why you didn’t try to chase it away.”
    “But I did. I took my gun from my pocket and shot at him. I emptied the entire magazine at that demon, but he didn’t move a muscle.”
    “And then?”
    “It turned its head toward me. Abdelkarim, I have never seen such a sinister face in my life. It was like he was laughing. Like he was laughing
at me.
I began to run, I ran as fast as I could.”
    “I still don’t understand why you think he was the devil,” said Abdelkarim.
    “He followed me all the way to the town outskirts. He only turned back when I said a Shahada. The name of the Prophet stopped him.”
    Abdelkarim went silent and stroked his beard. Finally he said to the young goatherd, “You are exhausted, friend. It seems we are all tired. Tomorrow we will look for the solution to this thing. Sleep here in the mosque.”
    Abdul Muhyi, still visibly spooked, took the imam’s suggestion. We all parted ways to sleep.
    The next morning I found Abdelkarim downstairs in the mosque. Abdul Muhyi was nowhere in sight. I washed in the well, then went into the prayer room, where breakfast was waiting. Abdelkarim’s wife had baked bread, which was steaming in a basket. We ate it along with yogurt and cucumbers. I asked him about Abdul Muhyi.
    “I sent the boy home,” said Abdelkarim, as he tore into the bread.
    “The kid was scared to death.”
    “I convinced him that his mind was playing tricks on him. The last thing we need are rumors about the devil. We’ve trouble enough.”
    “How did you convince him?”
    “I told him that it was obvious to me that he hadn’t seen the devil.”
    “And that was enough?”
    “No. I also gave him my rifle.”
    “Why?”
    “Because divine help was also needed. I thought I’d give him the gun and bless the ammunition. Now no more trouble will come of it.”
    “You convinced him your rifle can stop the devil?”
    “It can stop this one. Mausers are good guns.”
    Abdelkarim poured us tea.
    “Are you going to try to write an article today?” he asked.
    “No. My laptop ran out of power.”
    “I’ll plug in the generator.”
    “Don’t waste the energy. Even if I write an article, I can’t send it. The network is down.”
    “In that case, would you like to come