ed
him, but I did not realize what was happening, till too late. For
Peter, being accustomed to mongrels in Kaffir kraals, took a summary
way with the pest. Since it despised his whip, he out with his pistol
and put a bullet through its head.

The echoes of the shot had scarcely died away when the row began. A
big fellow appeared running towards us, shouting wildly. I guessed he
was the dog's owner, and proposed to pay no attention. But his cries
summoned two other fellows--soldiers by the look of them--who closed in
on us, unslinging their rifles as they ran. My first idea was to show
them our heels, but I had no desire to be shot in the back, and they
looked like men who wouldn't stop short of shooting. So we slowed down
and faced them.

They made as savage-looking a trio as you would want to avoid. The
shepherd looked as if he had been dug up, a dirty ruffian with matted
hair and a beard like a bird's nest. The two soldiers stood staring
with sullen faces, fingering their guns, while the other chap raved and
stormed and kept pointing at Peter, whose mild eyes stared unwinkingly
at his assailant.

The mischief was that neither of us had a word of Turkish. I tried
German, but it had no effect. We sat looking at them and they stood
storming at us, and it was fast getting dark. Once I turned my horse
round as if to proceed, and the two soldiers jumped in front of me.

They jabbered among themselves, and then one said very slowly: 'He ...
want ... pounds,' and he held up five fingers. They evidently saw by
the cut of our jib that we weren't Germans.

'I'll be hanged if he gets a penny,' I said angrily, and the
conversation languished.

The situation was getting serious, so I spoke a word to Peter. The
soldiers had their rifles loose in their hands, and before they could
lift them we had the pair covered with our pistols.

'If you move,' I said, 'you are dead.' They understood that all right
and stood stock still, while the shepherd stopped his raving and took
to muttering like a gramophone when the record is finished.

'Drop your guns,' I said sharply. 'Quick, or we shoot.'

The tone, if not the words, conveyed my meaning. Still staring at us,
they let the rifles slide to the ground. The next second we had forced
our horses on the top of them, and the three were off like rabbits. I
sent a shot over their heads to encourage them. Peter dismounted and
tossed the guns into a bit of scrub where the