We have reached the limit of level land and are now winding among the eastern foot-hills of the mountains of Gilead.  It is the hour of sunset and the great orb of day sinks in sad beauty to me.  In the twilight I see here and there half-buried pillars of some famous temple—­a temple that surely never stood here.  Our horses are wet with sweat; we have not halted for lunch; not a drop of water has been seen; night is coming on with its pale moon casting weird shadows about us; we are alone in a land noted for its lawlessness, and yet we are unarmed.  We move on almost in silence.  There is silence about us, save for the cry now and then of some night-bird.  We see no lights save those above us.  My guide seems bewildered and uncertain as to the location of the town we seek.  I am faint from weariness, and so cramped that at times it is with difficulty that I keep from falling to the ground.  I am now quite solicitous as to our safety and not a little alarmed when our way leads through some rocky, narrow passage suggestive of a lurking-place for men of evil intent.  But at last, at half-past nine o’clock, after being in the saddle for nine hours, I am aroused from my stupor by a joyful exclamation from my dragoman.  A few dim lights are seen,—­it is Gerasa!

My dragoman continued his exclamations of praise thus, “I thank my God for saving my life once more.”  I said faintly, “Why such words?” “Well,” he said, “all natives are expected to be in their villages by sundown, tourists at their destination earlier.  It is the custom of this region that tourists must have an escort of soldiers or Bedouins, even in times of peace; and now the feuds are on; and here we have come alone, at night, unarmed; and I am responsible for these horses—­they are not mine—­and for your life.  The ride may have been hard for you, but the hours of anxiety were more trying to me.  I have now done it once, but I’ll never again assume such a risk—­not even for A million Pounds!” I had no response that he heard, but mentally I said, “Never again with me, Mr. Barakat.  No, never!

Yet I think I never experienced greater joy on entering my own home than on that night when entering and riding through the crooked, narrow lanes of that miserable village of Gilead.

“At Gerasa”

CHAPTER IV.

Though in the village, and therefore relieved of the feeling of special danger, yet we had much difficulty in securing lodging for the night.  Our arrival seemed to disturb the peace of dogdom in what otherwise would have been a quiet resting-place.  No people were outside their houses.  We picked our way to the nearest light; the occupant of the house would not come out, but showed his face at the window—­a hole in the wall about a foot square.  My dragoman pleaded for lodging, but in vain.  We sought the