MY QUEST OF THE ARAB HORSE 



in his efforts to get away, and at the same time 

 saying the mare was "Chubby" to me, but not 

 to God. 



It was such a hot day that we had not gone 

 out of the house except to look at colts. Final- 

 ly a messenger came from the Governor's of- 

 fice, saying that his Excellency was much put 

 out, as he had been sitting at his office in state, 

 ready to receive us, for the last two or three 

 hours, and that he was anxious that we should 

 call on him, in order that he could return our 

 visit. So with Akmet Haffez and Sheikh Ali, 

 we went through the blinding heat to the old 

 rock-and-mud-built Governor's Palace. 



We were ushered in and passed the body- 

 guard of the Governor, which consisted of an 

 Arab with a spear, a soldier with an old-fash- 

 ioned gun, and another man with a sort of a 

 tomahawk. The Governor had a very long 

 and narrow face, with a small black chin 

 beard. He wore a fez and nervously 

 counted beads, much irritated at his servants 

 because of the irregular way they served the 

 coffee and cigarettes. He kept Ameene, the 

 interpreter, busy, for he wished to know all 

 about us — from where we had come and when 

 we were going. After I had made a bluff at 



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