MY QUEST OF THE ARAB HORSE 



He is as fine an example of faithfulness as 

 could be found. After he had been in this 

 country nearly a year, and had beaten off many 

 attacks of blues, Dr. Frank Hoskins of the 

 American Mission at Beyrout, Syria, came to 

 the farm to see the horses, and talked with the 

 boy who had been with the Anezeh. Reach- 

 ing home in the evening, I was informed that 

 ever since Dr. Hoskins had taken his depar- 

 ture Said had been crying. Evidently a fit of 

 homesickness had seized him. I went to the 

 barn to see him and he came smilingly from 

 one of the dark corners. But I could see that 

 his eyes were much swollen and still wet with 

 tears. I asked him if he had enjoyed his talk 

 with the visitor and he said he had, for he had 

 spoken Arabic as if he were at home. He 

 tried to appear happy and with forced en- 

 thusiasm told how Dr. Hoskins had admired 

 and liked Wadduda, the war mare, and ''The 

 Pride of the Desert," best of all the horses. 

 But he was plainly homesick for the sights and 

 smells of the desert and there seemed to be no 

 way to console him. His broken English only 

 made his protestations that he was happy the 

 more pitiful. 



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