it must be remembered that there are only two kinds of Indians whom they do not despise, and they are Sikhs and Pathans—Sikhs, because a Sikh can smite three Arabs with one hand, and the Pathan for much the same reason.
“But I must not go as a Sikh because of the religious difficulty; neither may you be a Pathan, because you in no way resemble one, nor do you speak the Pushtu tongue. But I will be a Pathan, because I can speak that language; therefore they will respect me as a man prone to fight readily and well. And knowing that no Pathan would demean himself by being servant to a man of no account, they will more readily respect you, although you are neither Sikh nor yet Pathan but are supposed to be a Punjabi Mussulman. Therefore, sahib, you must take a middle course between peace and pugnacity, pretending on the one hand to restrain my quarrelsomeness, yet on the other depending for safety on my readiness to take offense—as a man who is accustomed to a servant of mettle.”
The rest of his lecture was about niceties of behavior, religious observances, and so on. It was a mystery how that man had never been promoted. He seemed to have eyes for everything and a memory for everything that he had ever observed. The Sikh despises the religion of Islam quite as fervently as the follower of the Prophet scorns Sikhism; yet he seemed familiar with every detail of Moslem custom, and knew to what extent geography affected it. The point he seemed to understand best was how to turn the flank of ignorant fanaticism.
“Whenever you make a mistake, sahib, remember this: you are Darwaish, which is a man who is privileged, having set behind him all unimportant matters. So when you are accused of not observing this or that, or of acting with impropriety, confound the Bedouin always by sneering at their ignorance, saying that where you come from men know what is proper. And Jimgrim, having truly made the pilgrimage to Mecca, will confound them likewise, having knowledge, whereas most of these rascals only know by hearsay.”
I suppose he lectured me for two hours, until Grim came in looking pleased with himself, followed by the two infants looking much more pleased. You can’t mistake the adventurous air of an eight-year-old with money hidden on his person, whatever his nationality may be. De Crespigny followed them in to learn the news.
“Know anything about old Rafiki, the wool-merchant?” Grim asked.
“Steady-going old party,” said de Crespigny. “Says his prayers, cheats his customers, keeps the curfew law, and runs a three-wife establishment, I believe, in three parts of town, all according to the Book. Why, have you run foul of him?”
“He has offered me ten thousand piastres to poison Ali Higg”
“Show me the money!” laughed de Crespigny.
“He was hardly as previous as that. His head wife bribed these kids to bring me to the house, and the old boy met me in the wool-store. Said he’d been told I was going to Petra.
“First suggestion he made was that I should take my time on the road and waylay a caravan that’s sure to follow. He’d no idea, of course, that the lady Ayisha is to travel with me. His little scheme is to provide her with camels and men on his own account—mean camels and his own men, who would run away at the first sign of trouble.
“He assumes that I’m a gay Lochinvar who’d like nothing better than to carry off the lady. He wants her carried off and ravished as a spite for Ali Higg.
“Well, I didn’t exactly fall for that; said I couldn’t very well approach Ali Higg afterward, and he admitted that relations in that case might be kind o’ strained. So he proposed next that I should meet up with Ali Higg and poison him. He offered to supply the poison—stuff that he said would make him die slowly in agony.”
“What’s his quarrel with Ali Higg?”
“Seems the old boy had a daughter who was the apple of his eye—or so he said. She was on her way down to Egypt; and I suspect she did not travel by train because she’s been bought by some beast of a pasha. They didn’t want inquiries by passport people, or any interfering bunk like that.
“Anyhow, Ali Higg is quite a ladies’ man, and he happened to be crossing the map with part of his gang of thieves somewhere down Beersheba way. He agreed with the pasha on the point of taste and carried off the girl. So old wool-merchant Rafiki had to refund the purchase-price—not that he admitted that to me, of course.
“I suspect that’s where the rub comes. If he hadn’t been selling the girl illegally he’d surely have complained to you about the rape in the first instance. As it was he couldn’t think of anything except revenge.
“I asked him if he’d take the girl back, and he said no, what should he do with her? What he wants is money, or else the lingering death of Ali Higg; and seeing it’s about as easy to get money out of that gentleman as cream cheese out of the moon, he’s willing to part with a hundred pounds for either of two things—the rape of Ayisha or the death of Ali Higg. On those terms he vows he’d die contented.”
“If he finds out that Ayisha goes with you tonight he’ll try to corrupt old Ali Baba or one of his sons,” said de Crespigny.
“Yes, and he probably will find it out. But corrupting Ali Baba would take time and a lot of money; and none of his sons dares do a thing without the old man’s approval. I feel fairly sure of the gang. Point is, do you know of any other gang that the wool-merchant could hire right now to attack us somewhere on the road?”
“There’s none in Hebron that would dare. Plenty outside in the villages.”
“The lady Ayisha has probably told that she’s going tonight,” said Grim. “Old Woolly-wits might not find it out until too late, but I suspect his wives get all the gossip that’s going. Then he’ll have to work fast, because we shall move fast. What villages does he trade with chiefly?”
“The Beni-Assan and the Beni-Khor.”
“Small crowds, both of them. Counting her four fanatics, we’ll be four- and-twenty armed men, and tough in the bargain. Is there any outlying sheikh who owes old Rafiki money? Who are his wives, for instance?”
“Now you’re on the track,” said de Crespigny. “One of his wives— the third, I think—is the daughter of Abbas Mahommed of the Beni-Yussuf tribe. Abbas Mahommed is always in debt to him.”
“Where’s his place?”
“Down near the lower end of the Dead Sea. Right near where you’ll want to pitch your first camp. Abbas Mahommed sells him camel wool and hides, and goes in debt in advance regularly. This spring, for some reason, he delivered very little, and is still heavily in debt to Rafiki.”
“How many men has he?”
“Might turn out fifty strong.”
“That’s where we’re due for our first trouble, then,” said Grim. “We’ll have to put one over on him. I know one way of spoiling friend Rafiki’s game; old Woolly-wits’ll fall sure. Suppose you go and see him, ‘Crep, or send for him, and ask him straight out to provide camels for the lady Ayisha. He’ll send his own men along with them, of course, and give them private instructions. Let’s see—four men and a woman plus provisions, and he’ll probably send five men with them—twelve camels, eh? Who else can raise seven good camels in this place?”
“Easy. I know where to get ‘em.”
“Good. Hire them then. Tie them in two strings and send them out with two policemen to wait for us ten miles along the road. Be sure they start ahead of us.
