"The old sport thinks no more of me than of an express package
he'd been hired to deliver," I answered. "Drunk or sober, he'd
brush me aside like a fly."
"Well--wits were given us to use. I guess you'll have to use
yours. Have you any?"
"How the hell should I know?" I retorted.
"If you find I haven't any, don't blame me."
"I won't," he answered, and I believed him.
"What else besides being dry-nurse to the king of the
Amalekites?" I asked.
"Don't trust Ahmed."
"He's a good interpreter."
"Yeh--and a poor peg. You'll have to use him--some. But don't
trust him."
"Does old Anazeh know you in that disguise?" I asked.
"No, and he mustn't. I'll tell you why. All these people are
religious fanatics. A horrible death is the only fate they would
consider for a man caught masquerading as a holy personage the
way I'm doing. But their fanaticism has a way of petering out
when the gang's not there to see. In his own village I think
Anazeh would laugh if I talked this ruse over with him--
afterwards. But if he knew about it here, with all these other
fanatics alert and fanning, he wouldn't dare not to expose me.
It's a good job you asked that. If I send any message to Anazeh
through you, be sure you don't give me away."
"How shall I make him believe the message is from you, then?"
"Begin with 'Jimgrim says.' He'll recognize the formula. But if
he questions that, say 'A lion knows a lion in the dark.'
That'll serve a double purpose--convince him and jog his memory.
He ignored a request of mine--once, and I was able to get back at
him. Tell you the story some day. Nowadays he's more or less
dependable, unless he gets a skin-full of redeye. Well, make the
most of your chance to sleep; you may have to go short later.
I'm going to saw off a cord or two myself."
He left the room as silently as a ghost. I don't doubt that he
slept peacefully. Subsequent acquaintance with him convinced me
that he can go to sleep almost anywhere in any circumstances.
And that is a very great gift, for it enables its owner to wear
down any dozen who must sleep for stated hours at fixed
intervals. Grim snatches his whenever the chance comes, and goes
without with apparent indifference. He told me once that he
dreams nearly all the time he is asleep. But the dreams don't
seem to trouble him. I believe he dreams out the key to whatever
problem puzzles him at the moment.
My own sleep was done for that night, his advice notwithstanding.
I lay listening to Anazeh's thunderous snores and naturally
enough imagining every possible contingency and dozens that were
totally impossible. Nothing turned out in the least like any of
my forecasts; but that was not for want of trying to foresee it
all. I don't seem to possess any of that quiet gift of waiting
to deal with each development on its merits, as and when it
comes. I have to speculate, and speculation is the ene my
of peace.
Looking back, I don't think I felt a bit afraid of the immediate
future; but that was due to ignorance of nearly all that the
present held. I think that was part of Grim's reason for helping
me to reach El-Kerak in the first place; he counted on my
ignorance of danger to keep me cool-headed. It is true, it did
dawn on me that if my host were to suspect me of intriguing under
cover of his protection, the protection might cease with
disconcerting abruptness. I realized to some extent what a
predicament that would be. But on the whole, I think the only
real worry was the definite task Grim had given me--the
thankless, and very likely desperate, inglorious one of trying to
keep old Anazeh sober.
Of course, the Koran forbids wine. But whiskey is not wine. And
if you mix whiskey and wine together they cease to be either;
they become a commodity of which the Prophet knew nothing and
which he therefore did not forbid. But if you introduce such a
mixture into the stomach, and thence into the brain of an already
fiery Bedouin; and then introduce the Bedouin to trouble; and
if, in addition to the trouble, you provide impertinent, alien,
and what he calls infidel restraint, it is fair to presume that
the mixture might explode.
It seemed to me I had been given too much to do. In order to get
introductions to the notables I must first get ben Nazir into a
proper frame of mind. Then, stammering in an alien tongue, I
must make friends with chieftains who had never even heard of me;
and that, when their minds were busy with another matter. I must
keep in touch with ben Hamza, and convey his messages to Grim
without being seen or arousing suspicion. In addition to all
that I must keep sober by some means an old savage armed with
two rifles and a knife, who had twenty cut-throats at his beck
and call!
While I pondered the problem in all its impossible bearings, loud
snores to right and left of me, tenor and bass by turns,
announced that Jimgrim and Anazeh were as blissfully oblivious to
my worries as the bedbugs were that had come out of hiding and
discovered me. I began to feel homesick.