of cushions, but not so he. The position merely increased his dignity. He wore quite a lot of jewelry, including several diamond rings that called attention to the great size of his shapely hands, which were wrinkled and brown, but strong as iron. Most of his garments, except the striped outer cloak, were of silk, but, unlike most of his men, who wore plundered boots of every conceivable pattern, his bare, brown feet were only shod with open sandals.
He had the usual allowance of two bandoliers, a British service rifle, a revolver and two knives in sight; and they were probably only a suggestion of the armory he kept hidden from view in the ample folds of his cloak. When he moved there was a suggestive clink of hardware. On the whole, I am inclined to think his main secret of command was hypnotic; he was so used to the receipt and execution of ruthless orders, and so bent on being obeyed that authority exuded from him like an aura. I made up my mind right away that to humor him would only tickle his vanity. His men were within easy hail, and ten or twelve ruffians were standing almost within earshot; but inside the tent there were two of us to one of him, and if there was going to be any high-handed business I had a notion who would be first to regret it. Instead of waiting for him to speak first and standing respectfully in front of him, as ninety-nine Indians out of any hundred would have done, I squatted down on the floor-mat, motioned to Narayan Singh to do the same, and opened on him with an awkward question.
“What is this tale we hear?” I demanded. “Ali Higg sends us to find Ali Baba. Ali Baba tells us that you are afraid to advance on Abu Lissan. What does it mean?”
He was dumbfounded. There were probably not more then three people in the world who had dared to question him like that for several years past.
“Where is Ali Baba, and who are you that ask such a question?” he demanded after a long pause.
“Ali Baba,” said I, “is obeying orders, conveyed from the Lion himself by me to him. He has gone back to tell the Lion all that he has seen and heard. As to who I am, Mashallah! are the Lion’s envoys called in question?”
“You are a stranger to me,” he retorted.
“Not so,” said I. “I was with the Lion on the night when he ordered you to that oasis on the way to El-Maan. I am the hakim, who healed his boils. This other is my servant. I am a darwaish from Lahore, well versed in such matters as pertain to the offsetting of greater force by strategy and cunning. Therefore I am now employed by Ali Higg to aid him in confounding the Avenger.”
“Cunning?” he said, with the suggestion of a wry smile. “You look more like a bold man than a cunning one. Let us hope you are the father of deceit, for as surely as this right hand strikes my left, not the Prophet himself could have prevailed in his day against such numbers as we have against us!”
He suited action to the word by bringing down his right fist into his left palm with a loud clap.
As I have said several times, I am no strategist. That trick would have got by me. But Narayan Singh was too alert for him, and before the nearest men could come running in answer to the signal Ibrahim ben Ah’s cold old eyes were staring disconcertedly straight down the muzzle of a Webley revolver.
All the odds were dreadfully against us except one, but that lone one outweighed the rest. In common with the normal run of men old Ibrahim ben Ah was unprepared to die, and something in his inner consciousness convinced him —accurately as it happened—that Narayan Singh would pull the trigger, and not miss, unless he sent the men away as swiftly as he had summoned them.
I was afraid for a second that he was going to be too late, in which case, I suppose this story would never have been told, although Ibrahim ben Ah and half a dozen others would certainly have preceded us to hammer at the gates of Kingdom Come. The old rascal was so surprised that words stuck in his throat, and I drew my own repeating pistol in readiness to make a last stand alongside Narayan Singh. But Ibrahim barked out an order in the nick of time, and almost at the tent-door the men halted, and turned away without having seen what was happening because the Sikh’s broad back was turned toward them.
Ibrahim ben Ah screwed up a smile that showed the gold caps on the eye- teeth when the men were once more out of earshot and Narayan Singh lowered the revolver.
“Ye act like men who are afraid!” he sneered. “Ye fear without cause. By Allah, I am a man who is well served, and if my men mistake a chance noise for a summons, that is no reason why honest men should tremble for their lives.”
But if anyone was trembling it was he, and not with fear but anger almost too intense to be suppressed. Having won the upper hand of him mainly through Narayan Singh’s presence of mind, it was up to us to hold it, and about as certain as anything well could be that the old man would reverse the situation at the first chance.
“I asked a question that you haven’t answered yet,” said I. “By the Prophet’s feet this is a fine reception for the Lion’s messengers! A strange tale we shall have to tell him!”
“Aye!” he croaked, moving his Adam’s apple several times in rapid succession as he choked down his rising passion. “A very strange tale, on top of stranger happenings! I would like to see how Ali Higg with twenty men can make me move with a hundred four and forty! First it was toward the British border I was sent, to raid El-Maan, which was feasible; there is loot there for the taking. Then I was told to cool my heels in that oasis. Now it is to march on Abu Lissan, where we have no chance at all, and I am sick of the changing orders from day to day. By Allah, who am I to be ordered about like a bought slave? And who in the name of the Prophet is Ali Higg, that he should play fast and loose with me? I will not march on Abu Lissan, and that is all about it!”
I laughed. I couldn’t think of anything to say for the moment. If Ali Higg’s main force was going to mutiny, I didn’t see that Grim had much chance left in checkmating the Avenger and restoring a kind of order on the countryside. My main trouble is that I think too slowly to be of much use in a crisis of that kind; but Narayan Singh stepped nobly into the breach.
“By Allah’s Prophet and my teeth!” he boomed out. “Say thy prayers, Ibrahim! These men who obey thee at a handclap shall choose between you and a woman presently!”
“Jael has returned to Petra,” he answered, rather smugly.
Narayan Singh had had Ayisha in mind, not Jael; but here was a new note in the discord. Evidently Jael had got word to Ibrahim by one of those three messengers who brought news to Ayisha in the night; and Ibrahim had drawn his own conclusions.
I saw clearly now the strength of Grim’s contention in refusing to divulge his plans. If he had outlined any definite course for us to follow I would have felt bound by it; whereas I was free to use my own judgement, as it was. If Ibrahim ben Ah had determined, as seemed possible, to desert with all his force to the Avenger rather than run the risk of defeat, we stood confronted with a fine kettle of fish. The Avenger would be free, for one thing, to establish himself as paramount chief of all that district; success would breed success; next, he might capture El-Kerak—perhaps Es-Salt as well—and raid like a whirlwind into Palestine with thousands of loot-hungry malcontents.
From my personal standpoint I wouldn’t have worried much if the Avenger should accomplish all those things, for sooner or later he would be brought to bay and smashed by the British Army. It didn’t seem to me that the price of U.S. Government securities would be affected. But I was set like any decent member of a team on seeing Grim win out. You can’t like a man and not do your darnedest to help him win the game, even if it isn’t your game exactly. And my game it was, to the extent that Narayan Singh’s life and mine were teetering in the balance.
You can’t explain thought processes,
