the fabric.
“Yonder,” he said, for instance, pointing toward the sky-line with a dramatic sweep of his arm, “they say that Adam and Eve are buried. But they lie!”
And having denounced that lie, he expected me to believe everything else he told me.
According to him every rock we passed had its history of jinn and spirits as well as battles, and he knew where the tomb was of every national saint and hero, every one of whom had apparently died within a radius of twenty miles. Some of them had died in two or three different places as far as I could make out from his account of them.
And what Abraham had not done on those hillsides in the way of miracles and war would not be worth writing in a book; whatever cannot be otherwise explained is set down to the Ancestor, the Arabs ranking Abraham next after Mohammed, because the patriarch built the Kaaba, or Mosque, at Mecca, that Mohammed centuries later on adopted for his new religion.
But even Ali Baba grew tired of acting historian at last, and once more silence settled down, broken only by the bells and the camels’ gurgling, until about midnight we overhauled the three men who had been sent in chase of the fellow on the Bishareen. They had lost him, and were angry; for what should a man do except be angry in such a circumstance, unless he is willing to accept blame?
“You should have let us shoot, Jimgrim! Once I got close enough to have cut his beast’s legs with my sword! You think this is like the city, where a policeman holds up a hand and men halt? Hah! Wallah! It was he who drew sword, and behold my camel’s nose where he slashed at it! One finger’s breadth closer and I would have had a sick beast on my hands—but he proved a blundering pig with his weapon and only made that scratch after all.
“However, it is your fault, Jimgrim! You have made us to be laughed at by that father of dunghills! His beast was the faster, and he got away, and vanished in the shadows.”
So there we halted and held a conference, letting the camels kneel and rest for half an hour, while each man said his say in turn.
“That man is Rafiki’s messenger,” said Grim. “He is on his way to Abbas Mahommed, Sheikh of the Beni Yussuf, who owes Rafiki money. I think Rafiki is offering to forgo the debt if Abbas Mahommed will lie in wait for us and carry off this woman.”
He did not ask for suggestions. There was no need. Every one of those cloaked and muffled rascals had a notion of his own on the spur of the moment, and was eager to get it adopted.
“Allah!” said Ali Baba. “Let us fight, then, with Abbas Mahommed, and plunder his harem instead! It is simple. We come on his village before dawn when those sons of Egyptian mothers* are asleep. We set fire to the thatch, and thereafter act as seems fit, slaying some and letting others escape!”
“Wallah! Let us ride straight through the village, set a light to it, and run,” suggested Mujrim. “There isn’t a woman in that place I would burden a camel with.”
“Nevertheless, we should take some women to keep as hostages against the time when a blood-feud begins.”
“And surely we shall carry off some camels.”
“Aye! They have a horse or two as well. Abbas Mahommed trades with El- Kerak, and only last month acquired a fine brown mare that caught my eye.”
“What are fifty men! We can fight twice fifty of such spawn as the Beni Yussuf.”
“Wallah! They ran when the police paid them a visit. Ran from the police!”
“Yes, and were afraid to kill the Jew who sued Abbas Mahommed in the court for arrears of interest. They are cowards who dare not take their sheikh’s part in a dispute.”
“Better wait until dawn, and then ride by their village and defy them.”
But the lady Ayisha had the most astonishing suggestion. She came out from under the curtains of the shibriyah and sat against her camel’s rump to face the circle of armed men and instruct them.
“Taib!” she said scornfully. “Let this Abbas Mahommed come and take me. I have a knife for his belly in any event. You go on to Ali Higg and say his wife is in the hands of that scum. Ali Higg can cross the desert in three days, and by the evening of the fourth day there will be no village left, nor a man to call Abbas Mahommed by his name. If I haven’t killed him already Abbas Mahommed will be carried off to Petra with the women, who shall watch what is done to him before they are apportioned with the other loot. That is simplest. Let Abbas Mahommed lift me if he dares!”
She was clearly a young woman not averse to experiences, as well as confident of her lord’s good will. But Grim had the peace of the border in mind; and the gang were not at all disposed to stand by meekly while Abbas Mahommed paid a debt so easily to a mere wool-merchant.
“I am an old man,” said Ali Baba, “and must die soon. May He Who Never Sleeps* slay me before I see my sons afraid to fight Abbas Mahommed and all his host!”
“Let’s talk like wise men and not fools,” proposed Grim at last, and since he had let them have their say first they heard him in silence now. “The difficulty is that Abbas Mahommed’s village lies at the corner of the Dead Sea. We must turn that corner. If we pass between him and the sea he has us between land and water. If we journey too far south to avoid him we lose at least a day and tire our camels out. A forced march now would mean that we must feed the camels corn, and we have none too much of it with us; whereas tomorrow the grazing will be passable, and farther on, where the grazing is poor, we shall need the corn.”
“Wallah! The man knows.”
“Inshalla, let there be a fight then!”
“Wait!” counseled Ali Baba. “I know this Jimgrim. There will be a deception and a ruse, but no fight. Listen to him. Wait and see!”
“I think we will travel to the southward,” said Grim, “and halt at dawn out of sight of Abbas Mahommed’s village. There let the camels graze. But I, and a few of us, will take the lady Ayisha’s camel with the shibriyah, and draw near to the village. That black-faced rogue of Rafiki’s will point us out to them, for he will recognize the shibriyah.
“Then when they come to seize the lady Ayisha they will find no woman in the litter. So they will believe that Rafiki’s messenger has told lies that are blacker than his face, and will beat him and let us go.”
“But if they do not let you go? They are ruffians, you know, Jimgrim.”
“Then I shall find another way.”
“And how will you account for being so few men, when Rafiki’s messenger will have said we are at least a score?”
“Will that not be further proof that the man is a liar?”
“If I did not know you of old I would say that is a fool’s plan,” remarked Ali Baba, and his sons grunted agreement. “But you have a devil of resourcefulness. Taib! Let us try this plan and see what comes of it.”
So we started off again to a running comment of contemptuous disapproval from the lady Ayisha, who seemed to think that no plan could be a good one unless it entailed murder. The farther we headed eastward,
