hamdul’illah!” he exclaimed as soon as we got near him. “It is true that Allah makes all things easy, though an old man’s bones rebel against this kind of work. Ayyee! But my loins ache! How fares Jimgrim?”
I told him’ most of what had happened, while he leaned against his camel’s rump and munched dry dates, spitting out the stones between my feet; but I said nothing about that wrestling bout with Mujrim.
“Taib!” he said at last. “If the she-wolf Jael is in Petra, we lambs have a chance left for our lives! What do you think? That old village- raider Ibrahim ben Ah, who waits where he was bidden wait, vows he will not stir another inch toward Abu Lissan—nay, not for fifty Ali Higgs! The Avenger is on the move, and none knows which direction he is taking. Ibrahim is so afraid that he would not let me go without twenty men —an escort, as he pretended, but a guard, as a matter of fact, to prevent me from betraying him. Now they will be hunting for me in this wady,and I must be gone before they discover me. Go, you two, to Ibrahim ben Ah instead of me, while I take the news to Jimgrim.”
“Did Yussuf get through with his letter?” I asked.
“No. They caught him. He had it in mind to sell that letter of Jimgrim’s. He swore there was a draft in it for fifty thousand pounds, and he offered to trade the lot for ten good camels. But they took the letter from him, being brigands, whereas he was but a sneak-thief; and when they opened it, and found only a letter in English and a second envelope containing nothing, then they knew him for the liar I said he was.”
“Did they read the letter?” I asked.
“No, none could read it. But he offered to read it for them, and judging his life to be in danger he told such a tale about Jimgrim and Jael and Ali Higg as set them all well by the ears. But the fool wasn’t clever enough to stick to the truth. He told such a cock-and-bull story that they could make neither head nor tale of it, and when they asked me, I laughed. So he denounced me, saying I was party to the tricking of Ali Higg, and what with one thing and another Ibrahim ben Ah was at his wits’ end, knowing not what to believe. I thought he would kill the two of us, and was not pleased, for, inshallah, I can die a better death than in one halter with a dog like Yussuf. But Allah makes all things easy. Ibrahim decided at last to obey the order in the letter that I brought seeing that the seal was on it, and to take us both along with him.”
“I will stick that pig Yussuf when I find him!” swore Narayan Singh. “By the Prophet’s body and my beard, he shall learn how a knife in the belly feels!”
“Too late to teach him that!” laughed Ali Baba. “You would have to fight the vultures for his belly. His head lies one way, and his limbs the other. There came two men from different directions. Ibrahim knew both of them, and knew they would not dare lie to him. The one said that Ali Higg, with Jael and Ayisha and a score of men, was camped in a fiumara not far off. The other said that a certain Jimgrim—a person much resembling Ali Higg in general appearance, even to the bandage on his neck— was prowling to the south of us, also with twenty men. That was so contrary to Yussuf’s story that, considering his gold ear-rings and the Army pistol and the camel-trappings—nor forgetting the lie about the draft for fifty thousand pounds—it was decided on the spot that the earth would be well rid of him. He begged like a city thief, and chattered a lot of lies, but they tore him between camels and he talked no more.”
“Killed him for his ear-rings, eh?” said I, not exactly relishing the prospect of a visit to that gang.
“Aye, but I have the ear-rings,” the old fox answered, and showed them in the hollow of his hand.
Well, it doesn’t take much to make you laugh on some occasions. Most of us have giggled in church or at a funeral. The thought of that old rascal being clever enough to steal such loot in the circumstances under the eyes of a hundred and forty bandits was a straw that tickled overstrung nerves past control. Narayan Singh and I sat back on our camel’s rumps and roared with laughter until the tears came. I believe old Ali Baba thought us mad; there was nothing remarkable about the incident to him, barring professional pride.
“What does this mean about Jimgrim and Ali Higg?” he asked when we left off laughing for lack of breath. “What does the sore Lion think he will accomplish by calling himself Jimgrim?”
But we could not enlighten him on that score, and he shook his head forebodingly.
“If this were my expedition, by Allah, I would call it off!” he exclaimed. “The thieves are too much disturbed for an honest man to make a profit. I like the thought of El-Kalil. However, those dogs of Ibrahim ben Ah’s will catch me unless I hurry. Go ye to Ibrahim with them, and tell him any tale you please, so be you keep them off my trail until I reach our Jimgrim. Hark! I hear their voices.”
He was up and away with astonishing agility, riding at top speed up the ravine in search of a better track to escape by. I think if I had been alone I would have followed him, for it didn’t look like wisdom or necessity to “take tea” just then with Ibrahim ben Ah. Our old fox had the news, and until Grim had a chance to pass judgment on it there was nothing much to be gained that I could see by running further risks. But though I’ve often met men who pretended to no yellow streak, and have sometimes envied their ability to fool themselves, I’m disagreeably aware of a phase of fear that has got me into more tight places at different times than I care to recall. Perfectly aware of what was actuating me, I didn’t care, nevertheless, to appear afraid before Narayan Singh.
“We’d better get a move on,” I suggested.
He eyed me sharply once, and whatever his own thought process was, I’m pretty sure he was aware of mine.
“Why not?” he answered, laughing. “As our old king of thieves keeps on saying: ‘Allah makes all things easy.’”
So we rode side by side down the wady to meet Ibrahim’s men, and they weren’t pleased when they came on us and were assured that old Ali Baba had given them the slip. They swore outrageously. Their fear of returning without the old man provided an uncomfortable insight into the character of the other old man we would presently be forced to meet.
But swearing did not get them anywhere, and to have killed us on the spot, much though that would have suited their temper, might have got them into even worse trouble with their irascible commander. They were as tough a crowd of hard-faced cut-throats as ever praised Allah thrice a day, and they hadn’t a camel between them that was half as good as either of our two.
So when they had failed by dint of threats to extort from us the slightest hint as to the direction old Ali Baba had taken, they made up their minds to do the next best thing and ordered us to trade camels with them. But I think I’ve hinted once or twice that I like to make a profit on most transactions. I like to swing my strength into anything that comes along, take my chances with the next man, and get well paid for it. There was nothing that appealed to me in the suggestion to trade two magnificent Syrian riding-camels for a couple of mangy baggage-beasts, especially since the good ones did not belong to me in any case. So I waxed exceeding wrathy. Long experience has taught me to be slow-spoken in anger, giving each abusive word full room and weight, in a voice like a good top-sergeant’s to an awkward squad.
“In the name of the Prophet, on whom be peace,” I thundered, “I can smite nine or ten such dogs as you! As many of you as are left afterwards can return to Ibrahim ben Ah and tell him you met two friends of the Lion of Petra, who proved that jackals are no match for them! Come on!” said I. “Try to take the camels. Ye call yourselves the Lion’s followers. Alley-dogs! Eaters of ullage! Try what the Lion’s friends are like!”
A speech
