WE START FOR THE COAST 



tiful presents had been bestowed on us, and dis- 

 tinguished people came and were presented, 

 and when we walked down to the carriage there 

 was a procession. 



As I turned to say good-bye, I thought 

 I saw in his motions that Akmet Haffez 

 wanted more than a hand-shaking. So though 

 awkwardly, I admit, I presented both cheeks 

 and was seized in fond embrace by the old 

 Bedouin, who broke down and began to sob 

 almost aloud. He called to the interpreter to 

 come closer, and taking him by one arm asked 

 him to tell me that now indeed he had a brother 

 in America, and that if I did not return soon 

 he would in a few years come to make me a 

 visit, to see if I had preserved the blood that I 

 was taking away in his horses. Turning then 

 to Moore and Thompson, the old gentleman 

 with dignity, though weeping, bade them good- 

 bye, while crowds of Bedouins stood close to 

 the carriage. His stalwart son. Ah, also came 

 and then we were driven away to the 

 INIaidan on the outskirts of the town, where, on 

 a grass plot, our horses and mares were picket- 

 ed ready for the march. 



Yet we were loth to start, and there was an- 

 other reason for this beside our unwillingness 



[ 187 ] 



