MY QUEST OF THE ARAB HORSE 



pan with more than two washtubs full of boiled 

 rice on it, and on top of that a roast sheep. 

 We began to brighten up. More sour milk, 

 and grapes, and bread that looked like saddle 

 blankets followed the sheep. About twelve 

 Sheikhs ate with us at the first table. And 

 never was there such rice and mutton! We 

 must have consumed a third of it before it 

 was given over to the rank and file, who put 

 the crimp on the rest of it in short order. By 

 this time our tent was up, and full of Bedouins 

 looking at things. They were driven away by 

 Sheikh Ali, and we were invited to sleep, 

 which we did without being rocked. There 

 was a quiet air to the place which seemed more 

 restful, and in the morning I was up at day- 

 light looking over the horses picketed here and 

 there. Finally, picturesquely-dressed Bed- 

 ouins began to appear. 



Not one of them was hurried. Everybody 

 walked slowly and with a dignified sway. 

 There was no rushing for the 8:17 train; there 

 was no hurrying for the ferryboat; there was 

 no worry over the market; there was no ex- 

 citement over politics. Until I learned better 

 that you cannot * 'hustle the East" this repose 

 (you cannot call it laziness) seemed very 



[108] 



