Presently The Firing Was Heard Far In
Our Rear, The Robbers Having Fled.
The head of the column advanced, and
the dense body of pilgrims opened out.
Our forced halt was now
exchanged for a flight. It required much management to steer our
Desert-craft clear of danger; but Shaykh Mas’ud was equal to the
occasion. That many were not, was evident by the boxes and baggage that
strewed the shingles. I had no means of ascertaining the number of men
killed and wounded: reports were contradictory, and exaggeration
unanimous. The robbers were said to be a hundred and fifty in number;
their object was plunder, and they would eat the shot camels. But their
principal ambition was the boast, “We, the Utaybah, on such and such a
[p.145] night, stopped the Sultan’s Mahmil one whole hour in the Pass.”
At the beginning of the skirmish I had primed my pistols, and sat with
them ready for use. But soon seeing that there was nothing to be done,
and wishing to make an impression,—nowhere does Bobadil now “go down” so well
as in the East,—I called aloud for my supper. Shaykh Nur, exanimate with
fear, could not move. The boy Mohammed ejaculated only an “Oh, sir!” and
the people around exclaimed in disgust, “By Allah, he eats!” Shaykh
Abdullah, the Meccan, being a man of spirit, was amused by the
spectacle. “Are these Afghan manners, Effendim?” he enquired from the
Shugduf behind me. “Yes,” I replied aloud, “in my country we always dine
before an attack of robbers, because that gentry is in the habit of
sending men to bed supperless.” The Shaykh laughed aloud, but those
around him looked offended.
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