"
"Ask him how he dares interfere with our people," I said. "Tell him his
kaid shall hear of it."
The headman replied haughtily to Salam's questions and strode away. "He
say," said Salam, beginning to get angry, "Pay first and talk
afterwards--to Allah, if you will. He say he wait long time for man like
muleteer an' cut 'im throat. What he's bin done that be nothing. What he's
goin' to do, that all Moors is goin' to see. He come back soon, sir."
Then Salam slipped noiselessly into the guest-house and fetched my
repeating shot gun, from which I had previously drawn all cartridges. He
sat down outside with the weapon across his knees, and the bruised
muleteer safely behind him. I coaxed the charcoal to a further effort and
returned to my chair, wondering whether trouble that had been so long in
coming had arrived at last. Some five minutes later we heard a sound of
approaching footsteps, and I could not help noting how Salam brightened.
He was spoiling for a fight. I watched dim figures coming into the area of
light, they took shape and showed Ain al Baidah's chief and two of his
men--tall, sturdy fellows, armed with thick sticks. Seeing Salam sitting
with gun levelled full on them they came to a sudden halt, and listened
while he told them, in a voice that shook and sometimes broke with rage,
their character, their characteristics, the moral standing of their
parents and grandparents, the probable fate of their sons, and the certain
and shameful destiny of their daughters.
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