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 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. As he approached he took no notice of
us, but studiously looked straight before him with the most determined
insolence.
The fate of the expedition was, at this critical moment, retrieved by
Mrs. Baker. She implored me to call him, to insist upon a personal
explanation, and to offer him some present in the event of establishing
amicable relations. I could not condescend to address the sullen
scoundrel.
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