"Yet I Forgot to Speak of the Twenty Aeroplanes!"
You can expect anything, of course, of Arabs. People who will
pitch black cotton tents in the scorching sun, and live in them
in preference to gorgeous cool stone temples because of the
devils and ghosts that they believe to haunt those habitable
splendors, will believe anything at all except the truth, and act
in any way except reasonably. So I tried to believe it was all
right to be unreasonable too.
You would think, wouldn't you, that a man who had set himself up
to be the holy terror of a country-side and put his heel on the
necks of all the tribes for miles around, would have made use at
least of the caves and tombs to strengthen his position. There
were thousands of them all among those opal-colored cliffs, to
say nothing of ruined buildings; yet not one was occupied. Ayisha
had told most of the truth when she said in El-Kalil that her
people lived in tents.
We walked down the paved street of a city between oleander bushes
that had forced themselves up between the cracks, toward an
enormous open amphitheater hewn by the Romans out of a hillside,
with countless tiers of ruined stone seats rising one above the
other like giant steps.
In the center of that the tents were pitched, and the only
building in use was a great half-open cave on another hillside,
in which Ayisha told us Ali Higg himself lived, overlooking the
entire camp and directing its destinies.
On the top of the mountain in front of us was the tomb of Aaron,
Moses' brother. On another mountain farther off stood a great
crusader castle all in ruins; and to left and right were endless
remains of civilization that throve when the British were living
in mud-and-wattle huts. The dry climate had preserved it all; but
there was water enough; it only needed the labor of a thousand
men to remake a city of it.
We avoided the amphitheater with its hundreds of tents pitched
inside and all about it, because Ayisha said the women would come
running out to greet her, and she did not desire that any more
than we did. So we turned to the right, and started up a flight
of steps nearly a mile long that led to an ancient place of
sacrifice; two hundred yards up that the track turned off that
led to Ali Higg's cavern.
It was there, where the broken steps and sidetrack met, that the
first men came hurrying to meet us and blocked our way--four of
them, active as goats, and looking fierce enough to scare away
twice their number. But they recognized Ayisha, and stood aside
at once to let us pass, showing her considerable gruff respect
and asking a string of questions, which she countered with
platitudes. They did not follow us, but stayed on guard at the
corner, as if the meeting between Ali Higg and his wife were
something to keep from prying eyes.
So the far-famed Ali Higg was alone in his great cave when we
reached it, sitting near the entrance propped on skins and
cushions with a perfect armory of weapons on the floor beside
him. The interior was hung with fine Bokhara embroideries, and
every inch of the floor was covered with rugs.
There was another cave opening into that in which he sat; and it,
too, was richly decorated; but the sound of women's voices that
we heard came from a third cave around the corner of the cliff
wall, not connected. Ali Higg was apparently in no mood for
female company--or any other kind.
In the shadow of the overhanging rock he looked so like Grim it
was laughable. He was a caricature of our man, with all the
refinement and humor subtly changed into irritable anger. He
looked as if he would scream if you touched him, and no wonder;
for the back of the poor fellow's neck, half hidden by the folds
of his head-cloth, was a perfect mess of boils that made every
movement of his head an agony.
His eyes were darker than Grim's, and blazed as surely no white
man's ever did; and his likeness to Grim was lessened by the fact
that he had not been shaved for a day or two, and the sparse
black hair coarsened the outline of his chin and jaw. In spite of
his illness he had not laid aside the bandolier that crossed his
breast, nor the two daggers tucked into his waist-cloth. And he
laid his hand on a modern British Army rifle the minute he caught
sight of us.
Narayan Singh and I both bowed and, after greeting him with the
proper sonorous blessing, stood aside to let Ayisha approach. We
should have demeaned ourselves in his eyes, and hers as well, if
we had walked behind her. He nodded to us curtly, and almost
smiled at her; but that one wry twist of his lips was his nearest
approach to pleasantry that morning.
She knelt and kissed his hands and feet, waiting to speak until
she was spoken to; and he did not speak to her at all, but signed
to her with a tap on the head and a gesture to take her place on
the rug behind him. Then at a motion from me Ali Baba's two sons
brought forward the presents and the medicine-chest, setting them
down before him in the cave-mouth.
The presents were pretty good, I thought. I would not have minded
owning them myself; but he eyed them dully. There was a set of
Solingen razors, marked in Arabic with the days of the week; a
cloak of blue-and-white-striped cloth, fit for any prince of
Bedouins; and an ormolu clock with a gong inside it that would
have graced the chimneypiece of a Brooklyn boarding-house.
_"Mar'haba!"_* he said at last, by way of acknowledging our
existence, after he had stared at the presents for about two
minutes sourly; and I took that for permission to say my little
piece. [* Greeting]
So I delivered Grim's message, saying that he was a most
God-fearing and hard-fighting sheikh from Palestine, who had had
the honor to escort his mightiness' wife to Petra, and now,
learning of the illness of the famous Lion of Petra, who might
Allah bless for ever, rather than postpone his devotions had sent
me, his _hakim,_ schooled in medicine at Lahore University, and a
_darwaish_ to boot, to offer such relief as my modest skill
might compass.
That was a long speech to get off in Arabic for a comparative
beginner. I rather expected him to smile or say something
pleasant in return, but he didn't.
"By Allah, you have come to poison me!" he growled. "All _hakims_
are alike. There was an Egyptian tried it a month ago. Look
yonder on the ledge, where his skull hangs. May devils burn
his soul!"
It was easy enough to look shocked at that suggestion. He had the
drop on me for one thing; and, for another, Ayisha was whispering
to him, and I couldn't guess whether she was betraying me or not.
It turned out that that young woman was much too bent on swapping
owners to do anything but smooth our path; but I wasn't so sure
of that then as Narayan Singh seemed to be, and as, for that
matter, Grim was too.
But he seemed to grow a little less irascible, until she leaned
too close to him and touched his neck. Then he went off like a
pent-up volcano, and cursed her until she shuddered; and her
fright gave him no satisfaction, because he could not turn his
head to look at her.
"Where is this cursed person?" he demanded, meaning Grim,
of course.
"He rests at the treasury of Pharaoh," said I, hoping that as
Narayan Singh and I both stood exactly in front of him he might
not catch sight of Grim's movements in the valley below.
"How did he enter Petra without my leave?" he demanded.
I took a long pause, for that was an awkward question. I could
not very well admit that Grim had seized and imprisoned his
watchmen. But Narayan Singh strode into the breach.
"The Lion's jackals slept," he announced in a voice of righteous
indignation. "There was none to give our great Sheikh Jimgrim as
much as Allah's blessing. Nevertheless, he sends these presents."
Without answering that Ali Higg clapped his hands twice, and a
woman came around the corner from a near-by cave. By her bearing
she was either a junior wife or a concubine, and she greeted
Ayisha like a sister with a great pow-wow of blessing and reply.
But Ali Higg cut all that short. He was no sentimentalist.
"Find Shammas Abdul," he ordered her. "Order him to take camel
and meet the men returning from the Ben Aroun raid. Let him bid
them hurry. Go!"
She obeyed on the run. There was discipline in that man's camp,
as long as he was looking. But Ayisha followed the woman out, and
whether she herself found Shammas Abdul, or whether she contrived
to pervert the junior wife, Grim presently became aware of that
move to summon forth men, and governed himself accordingly.
For about a minute Ali Higg fixed baleful eyes on me.
"You are a Shia!" he snapped suddenly. "A Persian! A cursed heretic!"
A look of pained surprise was the best retort I could accomplish;
but Narayan Singh came to the rescue again. He thumped a fist on
his chest as if it were a drum, and glared indignantly.
"Would I, a Pathan of the Orakzai, demean myself by being servant
to a Persian?" he demanded. "Lo! We bring gifts. What manner of
desert man are you that reward us with insults!"
"Peace!" I said. "Peace!" remembering the Sikh's counsel about
the middle course I should pursue. "The Lion is sick. May Allah
take pity on him!"
Narayan Singh growled in his beard by way of submitting to the mild
rebuke, and Ali Higg--a little bit impressed perhaps--proceeded
to question me on doctrine and theology, showing a zeal for
splitting hairs that would have done credit to a Cairo _m'allim._
But I had had lots of instruction on those points, and in fact
surprised him with a trite fanaticism equal to his own, ending
with a statement that whoever did not believe every article
and precept of the Sunni faith not only was damned forever
beyond hope, but should be despatched in a hurry to face
the dreadful consequences.
His eyes softened considerably at that; and for the moment I
think he almost approved of me, in spite of the foreign accent
that must have grated on his ears, and his national dislike of
any one who hailed from India. He actually told both of us to be
seated, and clapped his hands again. Another woman came, looking
dreadfully afraid of him.
"Coffee!" he ordered.
We sat down on the ledge of rock in front of him, for although it
was hardly wise to seem too deferent, it would have been most
unwise to move away and give him an unobstructed view of the
valley, where Grim might be in sight or might not be. Our job was
to gain time.
He did not say a word until the coffee came, beyond swearing
scandalously when he moved his head and the boils hurt.
"O Allah, may Your neck hurt You as mine does me!"
I thought that pretty good for such a hard-and-fast doctrinaire,
but it was almost mild compared to some of his other remarks.
The woman brought the coffee on a tray in little silver cups--as
good and as well served as if our host were a Cairene pasha; but
our irascible host took none, for Ayisha called out and warned
him not to, saying it would heat his boils.
She came like the wife of Heber the Kenite, who slew Sisera,
"bringing forth butter in a lordly dish." She held in both hands
a marvelous Persian rose-bowl half filled with clabber, saying
she had prepared it for her lord herself, and offered it to him
on bended knees.
I could not see her face, for her back was toward me and she had
her shawl over her head; but I thought of that little vial of
croton oil Narayan Singh had given her instead of poison, and the
Sikh caught my eye meaningly.
Ali Higg was pleased to condescend. He took the bowl in both
hands, muttered a blessing, and drank deep, swallowing about half
the stuff before he noticed its strange flavor. Then he flung the
priceless bowl away from him, smashing it to atoms, and picked up
his rifle to take an aim at Ayisha.
"By Allah, the bint* has poisoned me!"
---------
* Literally girl; about as respectful as the word "skirt" would
be if used of one's wife.
---------
She screamed and ran. He fired, but she was already past the
corner, and the bullet grazed the rock. Moreover, croton oil is a
drastic cathartic, and waits on no man's convenience. He dropped
the rifle, groaned--and I would rather not set down quite all
the rest.
Sufficient that it gave Narayan Singh and me our opportunity. It
made him too weak to resist, and we took care of him. I let him
go on believing he was poisoned, and gave him harmless doses that
he presently believed had saved his life; so that even the
tyrannical fanatic felt a kind of gratitude.
Held like a baby in the Sikh's enormous arms with no less than
half a dozen terrified women looking on--for they had all run one
way while Ayisha ran the other--he slowly recovered control of
his emotions, while the women loudly praised my medicinal skill.
And since I knew almost nothing at all of medicine, and therefore
could say anything I chose without feeling guilty--like the
fellow on a soapbox who harangues a crowd on politics--I told him
he must have the boils lanced there and then, or otherwise the
poison might get to them and inflame them beyond all hope.
I suppose the men who had met us at the corner of the great
flight of steps did not come and interrupt because they had had
enough of his temper for one morning and did not choose to sample
it again uninvited. The rifle-shot did not bring them, because it
was nothing new for him to vent displeasure by shooting at folk;
and if there were a corpse, and it had not fallen over the cliff
or been kicked over, they would come and remove it when ordered,
but certainly not sooner.
Ali Higg has strength enough left to assure me that if I killed
him he would wait for me in the next world and settle the account
there. I told him what was perfectly true, that I would rather
lose my hand than kill him, so he added that if I hurt him more
than was reasonable four camels should be told off afterward to
hurt me.
Seeing he was to be sole judge of what was reasonable pain, and
having no means of guessing whether Grim was still alive and able
to protect me, I decided to give him a hypodermic, and put a shot
into his arm that would have quieted a _must_ elephant. Maybe I
rather overdid that, but as I have no medical diploma nobody can
call me to account.
And the operation was successful, if unpleasant. I used one of
the presentation razors.
Then Grim came striding up the mountain-ledge, with Ali Baba and
all the rest of the gang at his tail, but no sign anywhere of
Jael Higg. He stood and boomed out a sonorous Arab blessing; and
if ever a man felt and looked like a trapped wild beast it was
that Lord of the Limits of the Desert and Lion of Petra, Ali Higg.
However, Narayan Singh and I had played our part and got him weak
enough; he could not even jump to grab his rifle. The rest was
clearly up to Grim, who looked in no hurry at all.
He stood in the cave entrance with the light behind him, turning
slightly sidewise to let Ali Higg see him in profile. The Lion's
jaw dropped. Grim's very head-dress was striped like Ali Higg's.
His cloak was the same color. He had been dressed rather
differently when I last saw him, so he must have been doing some
pretty careful spy-work.
Of course, a close examination showed a dozen differences between
the two men, but in his weak state following that drastic physic
and the operation Ali Higg believed for a moment that he saw his
own ghost! One or two of the women checked a scream, which helped
matters, and the others shrank into a corner, staring with wild
eyes. One woman laughed, but not from amusement.
_"Salamun alaik,_ O Ali Higg!" said Grim after a full minute's silence.
_"Wa alaik issalam!_ Who are you, in the name of Allah?"
Instead of answering Grim strode in, and Ali Baba lined up his
sons across the cave-mouth. Unless Grim had left undone some
precaution in the camp below it looked as if we had the Lion
caged to rights, and you could tell by the look in Ali Baba's
usually mild old eyes that there would have been short shrift for
somebody if his advice were taken. For a moment I caught sight of
Ayisha peering timidly between the end man and the wall--to see,
I suppose, whether the Lion was dead yet--but the minute I caught
her eye she disappeared.
Grim stooped down over Ali Higg, who was sprawling on his stomach
on a Persian rug.
"Has my _hakim_ relieved Your Honor's pain?" he asked.
The Lion managed to sit upright. Three of the women piled
cushions behind him and ran back again to their corner.
"Who are you in my likeness?"
"A friend, _inshallah,"_ answered Grim.
He squatted down cross-legged on the mat in front of him; for
though the Lion's neck was pretty nicely bandaged and the
hypodermic had not lost its power, yet it hurt him quite a
little to look up.
"I had three brothers, but thou art none of them. I had one
son, but neither art thou he. In the name of the All-Knowing,
name thyself!"
"I am he," said Grim, "who brought Your Honor's wife from El-Kalil."
"Oh! And a million curses on the bint! She tried within the hour
to poison me. But for this Indian of thine I were a dead man now.
Stay! Send for her!"
He clapped his hands.
"Let her be flung over the cliff. Go bring her!" But nobody moved
to do his bidding, and it dawned on him a second time that he was
cornered. He wasn't a man who took such a discovery mildly.
"Ayisha shall be dealt with at the proper time!" he snarled. "I
have not accepted those gifts. Take them up! You who have entered
Petra without my leave shall account to my men presently.
Thereafter we will talk of gifts."
"Which men?" Grim asked him blandly. "Surely not the forty and
four who went to raid the Beni Aroun? Nay, I took the liberty of
sending them a message signed with Your Honor's seal. They will
not come for a day or two, so we can make friends undisturbed."
_"Shu halalk?_ With my seal?"
"With Your Honor's seal. Observe; I have it."
"Then--then--Where is she into whose hands I gave it?"
That was the first sign that Ali Higg had given of the slightest
affection for any one. His face looked ghastly at the thought of
losing that strange, half-western wife of his.
He had called Ayisha by her name in front of strangers, out of
disrespect. Jael he would not name, even when confronted by the
proof that she had broken trust and lost his precious seal.
"I took another liberty," said Grim. "I sent word by messenger,
who bore a letter sealed with that same seal, to Ibrahim ben Ah.
He will neither raid El-Maan nor return to Petra."
"He is defeated?" asked the Lion, dumbfounded. "And she--is
she a prisoner?"
Grim did not answer either question.
"And I met a man named Yussuf. You know him?"
_"Naam."_ (Yes).
"He has been lying to Your Honor. He has said that the British
are helpless. He brought Your Honor a report from Palestine that
was a skein of falsehood hung up on little pegs of truth. He told
you the British are not able to defend themselves, he knowing
better; for he is one of those men who say always what the hearer
would like to hear."
"What has that to do with thee?" demanded Ali Higg.
He was looking about him furtively, and Narayan Singh picked up
his rifle off the rug and stood it against the wall. Grim turned
toward Ali Baba.
"Bring Yussuf!" he ordered.
The ranks opened, and Yussuf was thrust forward into the cave,
where he stood looking like a felon awaiting sentence.
"Did you speak the truth, or did you lie to the Lion of Petra?"
Grim demanded.
"Who am I that should know the truth of such matters?" the man
whined, his voice squeaking like a cart-wheel. "I obeyed. I
looked. I asked. Perhaps I did not understand all I saw and what
was told me."
"Is the Lion of Petra with ten-score fighting men able to stand
against the British with twenty thousand?" Grim asked him.
_"Inshallah._ The Lion is brave. Who knows? Yet I forgot to speak
of the twenty aeroplanes at Ludd, each having ten bombs of a
hundred pounds weight that could make short work in an hour or
two of ten score men."
"Why don't they come?" snarled Ali Higg.
"They take no delight in slaying the women and children,"
answered Grim. "Those black tents below there would be an easy
mark to aim at; but who would gain? It is better that peace
were kept."
"Throw that Yussuf over the cliff!" commanded Ali Higg.
But once more nobody moved to obey him, and Yussuf had the indecency
to smirk, for which Grim cursed him with whiplash sarcasm.
Then Ali Higg put both hands before his face and prayed aloud:
"O Allah, Lord of mercies and of wisdom and rebuke, if I am in
the hands of enemies and she who was the mother of good plans is
taken away from me, have I not, nevertheless, smitten the heretic
in thy name and raised thy banner over Petra? Give me, then,
wisdom, that I deal with these men and confound thy enemies. _La
Allah illa Allah!"_
He dropped his hands and looked up with a hard, fanatical frenzy
in his eyes. But they changed almost instantly. The ranks of Ali
Baba's men opened once more; and Jael Higg stepped through,
dressed like a fighting Bedouin, bandolier and all. Grim had even
let her have a rifle and cartridges. As he promised, he had put
her to no indignity.