[p.152]my camel’s halter without waiting for an answer, “nakh’d[FN#19]” it (i.e. forced it to kneel), led me hurriedly to a carpet spread in a sandy hollow, pulled off my slippers, gave me cold water for ablution, told me that he had mistaken me at a distance for a “Sherif” (or Prince) of the Arabs, but was delighted to find himself in error; and urged me to hurry over ablution, otherwise that night would come on before we could say our prayers.  It was Mohammed al-Basyuni, the Meccan boy of whom I had bought my pilgrim-garb at Cairo.  There I had refused his companionship, but here for reasons of his own-one of them was an utter want of money,- he would take no excuse.  When he prayed, he stood behind me,[FN#20] thereby proving pliancy of conscience, for he suspected me from the first of being at least a heretic.

After prayer he lighted a pipe, and immediately placed the snake-like tube in my hand; this is an argument which the tired traveller can rarely resist.  He then began to rummage my saddle-bags; he drew forth stores of provisions, rolls, water-melons, boiled eggs, and dates, and whilst lighting the fire and boiling the coffee, he managed to distribute his own stock, which was neither plentiful nor first-rate, to the camel-men.  Shaykh Nassar and his brother looked aghast at this movement, but the boy was inexorable.  They tried a few rough hints, which he noticed by singing a Hindustani couplet that asserts the impropriety of anointing rats’ heads with jasmine oil.  They suspected abuse, and waxed cross; he acknowledged this by deriding them.  “I have heard of Nasrs and Nasirs and Mansurs, but may Allah spare me the

[p.153]mortification of a Nassar!” said the boy, relying upon my support.  And I urged him on, wanting to see how the city Arab treats the countryman.  He then took my tobacco-pouch from the angry Badawin, and in a stage-whisper reproved me for entrusting it to such thieves; insisting, at the same time, upon drinking all the coffee, so that the poor guides had to prepare some for themselves.  He improved every opportunity of making mischief.  “We have eaten water-melon!” cried Nassar, patting its receptacle in token of repletion.  “Dost thou hear, my lord, how they grumble?-the impudent ruffians!” remarked Mohammed-"We have eaten water-melon! that is to say, we ought to have eaten meat!” The Badawin, completely out of temper, told him not to trust himself among their hills.  He seized a sword, and began capering about after the fashion of the East-Indian school of arms, and boasted that he would attack single-handed the whole clan, which elicited an ironical “Allah!  Allah!” from the hearers.