MY QUEST OF THE ARAB HORSE 



When you once become aware that these mos- 

 quitoes are dangerous you are as watchful as 

 if they were yellow jackets; you swing at the 

 slightest sound. They sing in a higher tenor 

 key than the Jerseyites. They are even still 

 more elusive and I was surprised after my long 

 experience in New Jersey that I could not kill 

 one of these natives of Alexandretta. They 

 were as wild as humming-birds, and in their 

 flying, dipped in and out much the same 

 fashion. 



As Moore and I drove out of the town we 

 saw an appalling sight. It was a little girl of 

 about twelve years of age, whom the fever had 

 nearly eaten away. She was coming through 

 a graveyard with a jug of water on her head. 

 Her lips were so drawn that her teeth were all 

 exposed to view, and her arms and legs were 

 mere skin and bone. She looked as though she 

 had come from the grave. The graveyard 

 through which she was walking was a low, 

 marshy place where water buffalo wallowed in 

 the mud among the rock-piled graves. Por- 

 tions of the small valley between the town and 

 the mountains were all taken up with swampy 

 graveyards swarming with mosquitoes. It 

 was a relief to get out of Alexandretta. 



[58] 



