One by one, with scowling looks, the insolent scoundrels filed by us
within a few feet, without making the customary salaam, neither noticing
us in any way, except by threatening to shoot the Latooka, our guide,
who had formerly accompanied them.
Their party consisted of a hundred and forty men armed with guns, while
about twice as many Latookas acted as porters, carrying beads,
ammunition, and the general effects of the party. It appeared that we
were hopelessly beaten.
However, I determined to advance at all hazards on the arrival of my
party, and should the Turks incite the Ellyria tribe to attack us, I
intended, in the event of a fight, to put the first shot through the
leader. To be thus beaten at the last moment was unendurable. Boiling
with indignation as the insolent wretches filed past, treating me with
the contempt of a dog, I longed for the moment of action, no matter what
were the odds against us. At length their leader, Ibrahim, appeared in
the rear of the party. He was riding on a donkey, being the last of the
line, behind the flag that closed the march.
I never saw a more atrocious countenance than that exhibited in this
man. A mixed breed, between a Turk sire and all Arab mother, he had the
good features and bad qualities of either race - the fine, sharp,
high-arched nose and large nostril, the pointed and projecting chin,
rather high cheek-bones and prominent brow, overhanging a pair of
immense black eyes full of expression of all evil.
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