324 "BACKSHEESH!" 



and I flattered myself that I could pull him up. Not so ; 

 on went Jenny, on followed Jack, " he-hawing " with hor- 

 rible persistence. Up went Jenny's heels, smartly cuffing 

 Jack's nose and chest ; but this was mere play. Jack 

 kept biting at her rump, and she let fly her heels at every 

 alternate stride. All my efforts were now pointed at 

 avoiding these kicks, which several times struck my stir- 

 rup and my stirrup-leather, luckily a broad one, and Jenny 

 was unshod. I have since childhood felt an ambition to 

 visit the brook Kedron ; but it now looked as if my am- 

 bition were to be all too summarily gratified. My son 

 was posting on behind ; he could at any time have seized 

 Jack by the tail, but his tail was presumably almost as 

 tough as his mouth. Finally, the ass -driver's appeal to 

 Allah prevailed. By a bold scramble up a rock and a 

 ten- foot jump on the other side, my son headed off Master 

 Jack, whom Miss Jenny's dalliance had for an instant 

 delayed, and, b}'- a smart blow across his face and a grab 

 at the reins, helped me stop the brute and drive off his 

 temptress. Why Jack's jaw did not break with my jerks 

 or the severe curb he had I cannot explain , all I know 

 is that I was powerless. Give me a frightened horse 

 every time rather than an amorous Jack. On a broad 

 highway it would have been fun ; but any one who has 

 ever clambered up to Siloah will understand the uncer- 

 tainties of the case during this far from interesting race. 

 Finally, as a wind-up, the ass-driver reached us and — amaz- 

 ing to relate, but comprehensible to all who have seen 

 him in his native haunts — actually extended his hand for 

 backsheesh ; no doubt fervently believing that his cry 

 to Allah had saved me rather than my son's breakneck 

 jump. 



The loads the little ass bears are often as peculiar as 

 they are heavy. I have seen him carrying a bulky load 



