THE SELLING OF OUR GUN
I had been ill with typhoid fever. Just before my illness, the son of
a sheykh in our neighbourhood had asked me to lend him my gun for a
few days, since I never used it. There was nothing really which I
cared to shoot. The village people rushed out in pursuit of every
little bird whose tweet was heard, however distant, in the olive
groves or up the mountain side. Jackals there were besides, and an
occasional hyæna; and, in the higher mountains, tigers, so the people
still persisted in declaring, meaning leopards, I suppose, or lynxes;
for ignorant Arabs lump together a whole genus under one specific
name, in the same way that they call all wild plants, which have
neither scent nor market-value, grass. It was after we had sought
those tigers vainly that I put away my gun.
The sheykh's son asked me for the loan of it, and I consented in the
absence of Rashîd; who, when he heard what I had done, defiled his
face with dust and wailed aloud. Suleymân, who happened to be with us
at the moment, also blamed me, looking as black as if I had committed
some unheard-of sin. It is unlucky for a man to lend his gun to
anybody, even to the greatest friend he has on earth, they told me
sadly; and that for no superstitious reason, but because, according to
the law, if murder be committed with that weapon, the owner of the gun
will be considered guilty no matter by whose hand the shot was fired.
'How do they know the owner of the gun?' I answered, scoffing.
'For every gun there is a tezkereh,'[8] answered Rashîd; 'and he who
holds the tezkereh is held responsible for every use to which that gun
is put.'
It was, in fact, a rough-and-ready way of saying that the gun licence
was not transferable. I remarked with satisfaction that I had no
tezkereh, but that did not appear to reassure them in the least. They
still were of opinion harm might come of it.
Then I fell ill and knew no more of daily life until I found myself
in a hospital of the German Knights of St. John of Jerusalem, where
the good sisters nursed me back to health.
Among the Arab visitors from far and near who came to see me as I lay
in bed, was the youth who had borrowed my gun, together with his
father and his brethren, who wept real tears and prayed for my
complete recovery, talking as if they were beholden to me in some
signal way. Their manner puzzled me a little at the time; but I had
quite forgotten that perplexity when, discharged at last from
hospital, I travelled back into the mountains with Rashîd.
On the very day of my return I got an invitation from that young man's
father to dine with him at noon upon the morrow. Rashîd made a grimace
at hearing of it and, when I asked him why, looked down his nose and
said:
'He has our gun.'
'Aye, to be sure, and so he has!' I said. 'To-morrow I must not forget
to ask him for it.'
Rashîd looked big with tidings, but restrained himself and merely
growled:
'You will not ask for it. I know your Honour! Nor will that rogue
return it of his own accord.'
At the sheykh's house next day I found a largeish company assembled in
my honour, as it seemed. Innumerable were the compliments on my
recovery, the pretty speeches and remarks, to which I made reply as
best I could. The meal consisted of some thirty courses, and was set
on trays upon the floor in the old, country fashion, everybody eating
with his fingers from the dish. When it drew near an end, the son of
the house glanced at his father meaningly, and getting in return a
nod, rose up and left the room. He soon came back, carrying my gun,
which he brought first to me as if for benediction, then handed round
for the inspection of the other guests. There were cries of 'Ma
sh'Allah!' while they all praised its workmanship, one man opining
that it must have cost a mint of money, another wishing he possessed
its brother, and so forth. These exclamations and asides were
evidently aimed at me, and it was somehow carried to my understanding
that this exhibition of the gun, and not the public joy on my
recovery, was the true reason of the feast and all attending it;
though why it should be so I could not think.
'One thing that is remarkable about this gun,' explained the master of
the house, 'is that it cannot miss the object aimed at. We have tried
it at a target nailed upon a tree--I and my sons--at fifty and a
hundred paces--aye, and more! And, by the Lord, the bullet always
strikes exactly on the spot at which the gun is pointed, even though
that spot be not much bigger than a gnat.'
And then, quite unaccountably, the whole assembly rose and tried to
kiss my hands, as if the virtues of my gun were due to me. It was
obviously not the moment to reclaim the weapon.
When I got home after that strange ovation, Rashîd received me coldly
and observed:
'You do not bring our gun! You feared to ask for it! Did not I know
how it would be? Oh, Allah, Allah!'
'I had no opportunity,' I told him; 'but I am going now to write and
ask him to return it. Be ready for the letter. You will have to take
it.'
'Upon my head and eye, with all alacrity,' Rashîd replied. 'Never did
I rejoice so much in any errand. That rascal has been telling
everybody that it is your gift to him, and boasting of his gun through
all the mountains. No doubt, he counts upon your illness having dimmed
remembrance, and hopes that you yourself may be deluded into thinking
that it was a gift and not a loan.'
'Why did you not tell me this before?' I asked.
'Was it my business, till the question rose?'
I wrote a civil note to the young man, asking him to let me have the
gun in a few days, as I was collecting my belongings for the journey
back to England. I thanked him for the care which he had taken of my
property, which was much better kept than when I lent it to him, as I
had remarked that day. Rashîd received the missive and went off
exulting.
Within an hour that young man came to me, without the gun, and in a
state of most profound affliction and despair. Having shut the door
with great precaution to make sure we were alone, he fell upon the
ground and burst out crying, confessing that his passion for the gun
had made him dream that it was his each night as he lay thinking ere
he fell asleep.
'But I did not tell a soul that it was mine--did but dream it--until I
knew your Honour was abed and like to die,' he told me naively, as
something which might make his fault seem natural. 'I thought that you
would die and leave it with me.'
So, thinking me as good as dead, he had told his father and his
brothers that it was a gift from me, or, as it were, a legacy; and now
the fame of my munificence, my love for him, had gone abroad. An hour
ago, when he received my letter, he had confessed the truth at last
and privately to his beloved father, who, while strongly blaming him
for his deceit, was willing to pay any price I chose to put upon the
weapon to save him from the horrid scandal of exposure. If the story
became public in the country he would die of grief. The honour of a
noble house was at my mercy.
The gun, so much admired, was quite a cheap one in reality. I had
bought it for ten pounds three years before, in London, on the advice
of an uncle skilled in all such matters. After a moment's thought, I
said: 'Eight English pounds.'
Never in my life before or since have I beheld such transports of
relief and gratitude, nor heard such heartfelt praises of my
generosity. He told the money out before me there and then, insisted
on embracing me repeatedly, and then rushed out, intent to tell his
father.
When he had gone, Rashîd appeared before me, stern and aloof as the
Recording Angel.
'It is a crime you have committed,' he exclaimed indignantly. 'That
rascal told me as we came along together that his father was prepared
to pay a hundred pounds to save their honour. He had sinned; it is but
right his house should bear the punishment.'
'You would have done as I have done, in my position,' I assured him,
laughing.
'In the position of your Honour,' was the dignified reply, 'I should
either have made him pay a hundred pounds for our gun, or else
persuaded him that it was worth a hundred pounds, and then presented
it. In either case I should have crushed those people utterly. But,
for a man in your position to accept eight pounds for such a
weapon--and proclaim it worth no more--that is a shame! If your desire
was money, you should not have touched the matter personally, but have
left it altogether in the hands of me, your servant, who am always
careful of your honour, which is mine as well.'
He sulked with me thereafter for two days.
FOOTNOTES:
[8] Licence.