The Fellow Bounded
Along Like An Antelope, And Was Immediately Pursued By Half A Dozen
Turks.
"Shoot him!
Shoot him! knock him over!" was shouted from the main
body; and twenty guns were immediately pointed at the fugitive, who
distanced his pursuers as a horse would outstrip an ox.
To save the man I gave chase on Filfil, putting myself in the line
between him and the guns, to prevent them from firing. After a short
course I overtook him, but he still continued running, and upon my
closing with him he threw his spear on the ground, but still ran. Not
being able to speak his language, I made signs that he should hold the
mane of my horse, and that no one should hurt him. He at once clutched
with both hands the horse's mane, and pushed himself almost under my
knee in his efforts to keep close to me for protection. The Turks
arrived breathless, and the native appeared as terrified as a hare at
the moment it is seized by the greyhound. "Shoot him!" they one and all
shouted. "Well done, `Hawaga!' (Sir) you caught him beautifully! We
never could have caught him without your horse. Pull him out! we'll
shoot him as an example to the others!" I explained that he was my man,
and belonged to me as I had caught him, therefore I could not allow him
to be shot. "Then we'll give him five hundred with the coorbatch!" they
cried. Even this generous offer I declined, and I insisted that he
should accompany me direct to Ibrahim, into whose hands I should myself
deliver him.
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