MY QUEST OF THE ARAB HORSE 



that category because they could see no ram- 

 rods attached to them. It was futile to enter 

 into any argument and we soon learned what 

 the trouble was. 



Al Hami Bey, a spy of the government, was 

 the trouble. The Governor and the Collector 

 were afraid of him. He had rumored about 

 the town that we were gun manufacturers from 

 America, and that our guns were only samples 

 of what we were taking to the desert. We 

 drank, it seems to me, as I look back on it, 

 coffee by the gallon and smoked cigarettes by 

 the dozens, but nothing came of these official 

 hospitalities. We could not get our guns un- 

 til further and more explicit instructions came 

 from the Sublime Porte. That meant, appar- 

 ently that we should have to wait until Al 

 Hami gave the word. That man looked to 

 me then and I have no doubt would look to 

 me now, exactly like a spy. He objected to 

 everything, and especially everything Amer- 

 ican. It is this kind of man which causes the 

 Sultan of Turkey to be much misunderstood. 

 You could see from the spy's expression that he 

 thought Arthur Moore was too big, physical- 

 ly ; and he was sore he could not have him held. 

 The Turkish spy is always small. 



[56] 



