scrutinized each individual. It is easy to laugh about it now,
but I actually made my way to Anazeh's side and tried to discover
whether the old Sheikh's wrinkles and gray-shot beard were not a
very skillfully done make-up. At any rate, I got from that
absurd investigation the sure knowledge that Grim was not in the
boat with us.

I could not talk with Anazeh very well, because when he tried to
understand my amateurish Arabic and to modify his flow of stately
speech to meet my needs, he always put his head down, and the
helm with it. It seemed wisest to let him do one unaccustomed
thing at a time. I did not care to try to talk with any of his
men, because that might possibly have been a breach of etiquette.
Arab jealousy is about as quick as fulminate of mercury: as
unreasonable, from a western viewpoint, as a love-sick woman's.

But there did not seem any objection to talking with Ahmed. He
was at least in theory my co-religionist, and not a person any
Moslem in that boat was likely to be jealous of. He jumped
at the notion of making friends with me. He made no secret of
the reason.

"You are safe, effendi. They will neither rob you, nor kill you,
nor let you get killed. You are their guest. But as for me,
they would cut my throat as readily as that sheep's, more
especially since they have discovered that you know how to start
the engine. My best chance was to make them believe that the
engine is difficult to understand. Because of your knowledge
they now feel independent of me. So I must yield to them in
everything. And if they force me to swear on a Bible, and on my