He Pathetically Asked My
Attendants "Do You Love Your Pilgrim?" And Suggested That If They Did So,
They Might As Well Send Him A Little More Cloth, Upon The Receipt Of Which
He Would Escort Us With Fifty Horsemen.
My Somal lent a willing ear to a speech which smelt of falsehood a mile
off:
They sat down to debate; the subject was important, and for three
mortal hours did that palaver endure. I proposed proceeding at once. They
declared that the camels could not walk, and that the cold of the prairie
was death to man. Pointing to a caravan of grain-carriers that awaited our
escort, I then spoke of starting next morning. Still they hesitated. At
length darkness came on, and knowing it to be a mere waste of time to
debate over night about dangers to be faced next day, I ate my dates and
drank my milk, and lay down to enjoy tranquil sleep in the deep silence of
the desert.
The morning of the 23rd of January found my companions as usual in a state
of faint-heartedness. The Hammal was deputed to obtain permission for
fetching the Gerad and all the Gerad's men. This was positively refused. I
could not, however, object to sending sundry Tobes to the cunning idiot,
in order to back up a verbal request for the escort. Thereupon Yusuf Dera,
Madar Farih, and the other worthies took leave, promising to despatch the
troop before noon: I saw them depart with pleasure, feeling that we had
bade adieu to the Girhis.
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