MY COUNTRYMAN
One summer, in the south of Syria, amid that tumbled wilderness of
cliff and chasm, shale and boulder, which surges all around the Sea of
Lot, we had been riding since the dawn without encountering a human
being, and with relief at last espied a village, having some trace of
cultivated land about it, and a tree.
Rashîd was on ahead. Suleymân had been beside me, but had dropped
behind in order to perform some operation on his horse's hoof. As I
came down the last incline on to the village level I heard angry
shouts, and saw a crowd of fellâhîn on foot mobbing Rashîd. Urging my
horse, I shouted to him to know what was happening. At once a number
of the villagers forsook him and surrounded me, waving their arms
about and talking volubly.
I had gathered, from their iteration of the one word 'moyeh,' that
water was the matter in dispute, even before Rashîd succeeded in
rejoining me.
He said: 'I rode up to the spring which flows beneath that arch, and
was letting my horse drink from the stone trough of water, when these
maniacs rushed up and dragged my horse away, and made this noise. They
say the water in the spring is theirs, and no one else has any right
to touch it. I offered to make payment, but they would not hear me. I
threatened them with vengeance, but they showed no fear. Is it your
Honour's will that I should beat a few of them?'
Seeing their numbers, I considered it the wiser plan for us to let
them be till their excitement had cooled down, and till Suleymân
arrived to help us with advice. Accordingly, I smiled and nodded to
the villagers, and rode back up the path a little way, Rashîd obeying
my example with reluctance, muttering curses on their faith and
ancestry. Then we dismounted and lay down in the shadow of some rocks.
It wanted still two hours before the sun would set.
Suleymân came on us, and dismounted at a call from me.
'What is the noise down there?' he questioned, looking at the village
with that coolness, like indifference, habitual to his face when
meeting problems of importance.
'They will not let us touch the water--curse their fathers!' growled
Rashîd. 'Heard anyone the like of such inhospitality? It would but
serve them right if we destroyed their houses.'
Suleymân screwed up his eyes, the better to survey the crowd of
villagers below, who now sat guard around the spring, and murmured
carelessly:
'It is evident that thou hast angered them, O son of rashness. We
shall do well to wait before approaching them again with our polite
request.'
Therewith he stretched his length upon the ground, with a luxurious
sigh, and would, I think, have gone to sleep, had not Rashîd,
conceiving himself blamed, thought necessary to relate in full the
whole adventure.
'What else could man have done?' he asked defiantly. 'Say in what
respect, however trifling, did I act unwisely?'
'By Allah, thou didst nothing wrong, and yet thou mightest have done
better, since thy efforts led to failure,' said the sage, benignly.
'Thou art a soldier yet in thought, and thy one method is to threaten.
If that avails not, thou art helpless. There are other ways.'
'I offered money,' cried Rashîd indignantly. 'Could man do more?'
'What are those other ways? Instruct us, O beloved!' I put in, to save
Rashîd from feeling lonely under blame for ignorance.
'No truly great one ever argues with a crowd. He chooses out one man,
and speaks to him, him only,' said Suleymân; and he was going to tell
us more, but just then something in the wadi down below the village
caught his eye, and he sat up, forgetting our dilemma.
'A marvel!' he exclaimed after a moment spent in gazing. 'Never, I
suppose, since first this village was created, have two Franks
approached it in a single day before. Thou art as one of us in outward
seeming,' he remarked to me; 'but yonder comes a perfect Frank with
two attendants.'
We looked in the direction which his finger pointed, and beheld a man
on horseback clad in white from head to foot, with a pith helmet and
a puggaree, followed by two native servants leading sumpter-mules.
'Our horses are in need of water,' growled Rashîd, uninterested in the
sight. 'It is a sin for those low people to refuse it to us.'
'Let us first wait and see how this newcomer fares, what method he
adopts,' replied Suleymân, reclining once more at his ease.
The Frank and his attendants reached the outskirts of the village, and
headed naturally for the spring. The fellâhîn, already put upon their
guard by Rashîd's venture, opposed them in a solid mass. The Frank
expostulated. We could hear his voice of high command.
'Aha, he knows some Arabic. He is a missionary, not a traveller,' said
Suleymân, who now sat up and showed keen interest. 'I might have known
it, for the touring season is long past.'
He rose with dignified deliberation and remounted. We followed him as
he rode slowly down towards the scene of strife. When we arrived, the
Frank, after laying about him vainly with his riding-whip, had drawn
out a revolver. He was being stoned. His muleteers had fled to a safe
distance. In another minute, as it seemed, he would have shot some
person, when nothing under Allah could have saved his life.
Suleymân cried out in English: 'Don't you be a fool, sir! Don't you
fire!'
The Frank looked round in our direction, with an angry face; but
Suleymân bestowed no further thought on him. He rode up to the nearest
group of fellâhîn, crying aloud:
'O true believers! O asserters of the Unity! Bless the Prophet, and
inform me straightway what has happened!'
Having captured their attention by this solemn adjuration, he
inquired:
'Who is the chief among you? Let him speak, him only!'
Although the crowd had seemed till then to be without a leader, an old
white-bearded man was thrust before him, with the cry:
'Behold our Sheykh, O lord of judgment. Question him!'
Rashîd and I heard nothing of the conversation which ensued, except
the tone of the two voices, which appeared quite friendly, and some
mighty bursts of laughter from the crowd. No more stones were thrown,
although some persons still kept guard over the spring.
At length Suleymân returned to us, exclaiming:
'All is well. They grant us leave to take what water we require. The
spring has been a trouble to these people through the ages because the
wandering tribes with all their herds come here in time of drought and
drink it dry. But now they are our friends, and make us welcome.'
He called out to the Frank, who all this while had sat his horse with
an indignant air, more angry, as it seemed, to be forgotten than to be
assailed:
'It is all right. You take the water and you pay them five piastres.'
'It is extortion!' cried the Frank. 'What right have they to charge me
money for the water of this natural spring, which is the gift of God?
I will not pay.'
'No matter. I pay for you,' shrugged Suleymân.
I tried to make the missionary--for such he proved to be upon
acquaintance--understand that the conditions in that desert country
made the spring a valued property, and gave a price to every
pitcherful of water.
'What! Are you English?' was his only answer, as he scanned my
semi-native garb with pity and disgust. 'And who, pray, is that person
with you who was rude to me?'
'His name is Suleymân. He is a friend of mine.'
'A friend, I hardly think,' replied the Frank, fastidiously. He was a
big man, with a dark complexion and light eyes. 'I am going to camp
here to-night. I have a tent. Perhaps you will be good enough to come
and sup with me. Then we can talk.'
'With pleasure,' I made answer, taken by surprise.
'Where is your camp?' he asked.
'We haven't got one. We put up in the guest-room if there is one, or
under the stars.'
'Well, there's no accounting for tastes,' he murmured, with a sneer.
Rashîd, through all this conversation, had been standing by, waiting
to tell me that Suleymân had gone before into the village to the
headman's house, where it had been arranged that we should pass the
night. Thither we went, when I had finished speaking to the
missionary; and there we found Suleymân enthroned among the village
elders in a long, low room. He stood up on my entrance, as did all the
others, and explained:
'We have a room near by where we can throw our saddle-bags, but it is
verminous, and so we will not sleep inside it, but outside--on the
roof. For supper we are the invited guests of the good sheykh, and I
can tell you he is getting ready a fine feast.'
With deep regret and some degree of shame I told him of my promise to
take supper with the missionary. He looked reproach at me, and told
the villagers what I had said. They all cried out in disappointment.
Suleymân suggested that I should revoke the promise instantly, but
that I would not do, to his annoyance; and after that, till it was
time for me to go, he and Rashîd were sulky and withdrew their eyes
from me. I knew that they were jealous of the Frank, whom they
regarded as an enemy, and feared lest he should turn my mind against
them.