MY QUEST OF THE ARAB HORSE 



He was much moved and so was I; not so 

 much because I seemed so unexpectedly to have 

 attamed my fondest hopes, as because I had 

 met with a man. It was difficult to find exact- 

 ly the right thing to say through an interpreter, 

 but this fine old Bedouin was equal to the 

 occasion. Repressing his emotion he said with 

 a deprecating smile : 



"But after all you have not come here to see 

 men. Better than that you have come to see 

 horses, and I would be selfish if I kept you 

 longer from seeing the greatest mare of our 

 country — the war mare of the Great Hashem 

 Bey — the mare from whose back he killed, 

 among others, his most distinguished enemy." 



A servant was dispatched for her. She was, 

 Akmet Haffez said, a present to him from the 

 Great Sheikh, who had just been his guest; 

 that in their religious custom no present could 

 equal her; nothing but a gift from Allah, him- 

 self, could surpass her. 



The servant returned and, led by the hand 

 of this old man who was so impressing his in- 

 dividuality upon us, we went down to the court 

 yard. There stood a black slave groom with 

 two mares, a chestnut and a small bay. Sev- 

 eral hundred Bedouins and townspeople had 



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