WE START FOR THE COAST 



And the old man had his way. "I will send 

 to get the mare," said he. "My own son Faiot, 

 who is also your son, shall go and he shall bring 

 her back alive or her owner dead." I yielded, 

 not without hesitation, for I wanted the ani- 

 mal, as she was the best in the Euphrates val- 

 ley, and, anyway, to ease my conscience I sent 

 along the revolver which her owner had de- 

 manded. Faiot and the soldier started at once 

 on their fifteen hours' ride as we broke camp in 

 the opposite direction. They would try to 

 catch us on the second night. 



It was nearly two o'clock before we were 

 ready to march. The young stallions had 

 rested from their trip from the desert. The 

 barley and the regular feed which they were 

 getting was beginning to tell on their condi- 

 tion and it was with difficulty that the man led 

 some of the two-year-olds, so frisky were they 

 and so full of play. 



We rode all night and until the sun was hot 

 and at eight o'clock in the morning stopped at 

 Kafar-al-Teen, the spot named after the 

 famous bandit of that name. All-night travel 

 is not best for man or beast. The horses were 

 tired and sleepy and, worse still, Moore was 

 sick and not improving. The heat of the day 



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