lawlessness, and yet we are unarmed. We move on almost in silence.
There is silence about us, save for the cry now and then of some
night-bird. We see no lights save those above us. My guide seems
bewildered and uncertain as to the location of the town we seek. I
am faint from weariness, and so cramped that at times it is with
difficulty that I keep from falling to the ground. I am now quite
solicitous as to our safety and not a little alarmed when our way
leads through some rocky, narrow passage suggestive of a lurking-
place for men of evil intent. But at last, at half-past nine
o'clock, after being in the saddle for nine hours, I am aroused
from my stupor by a joyful exclamation from my dragoman. A few dim
lights are seen,--IT IS GERASA!

My dragoman continued his exclamations of praise thus, "I thank my
God for saving my life once more." I said faintly, "Why such
words?" "Well," he said, "all natives are expected to be in their
villages by sundown, tourists at their destination earlier. It is
the custom of this region that tourists must have an escort of
soldiers or Bedouins, even in times of peace; and now THE FEUDS
ARE ON; and here we have come alone, at night, unarmed; and I am
responsible for these horses--they are not mine--and for your
life. The ride may have been hard for you, but the hours of
anxiety were more trying to me. I have now done it once, but I'll
never again assume such a risk--NOT EVEN FOR A MILLION POUNDS!" I
had no response that he heard, but mentally I said, "Never again
with ME, Mr. Barakat. NO, NEVER!

Yet I think I never experienced greater joy on entering my own
home than on that night when entering and riding through the
crooked, narrow lanes of that miserable village of Gilead.