The
reply was, "He will go with us." "Well," I said, "if he must go
make him put down that gun; it will spoil my evening of quiet
thought at the sacred river." The answer was:
"Make no further
objection. Have you not noticed that everybody here carries a gun?
He knows what he is doing. This is the most disreputable place
along the river. Those Bedouins of the black tents that we passed
over yonder would want no better opportunity than to find you, who
are expected to have money, alone at the bridge." I accepted the
situation, and said, "All right, but I shall expect you both to be
obedient to the extent of giving me a period of quiet as long as I
wish to remain."
But, before we go to the bridge, let me tell of that night in that
miserable place of filth. At the time of retiring my host said to
me through my interpreter that I could have choice of beds - that I
could either sleep on the counter, which consisted of a couple of
boards laid carelessly across boxes, or that I could sleep behind
the counter on the floor! After looking at the boards, and
thinking what would likely be the result should I attempt to sleep
there, I made choice of the floor. The room then became my
BEDROOM.
Oh, that night! I did not sleep a half-hour.
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