zed to some extent what a
predicament that would be. But on the whole, I think the only
real worry was the definite task Grim had given me--the
thankless, and very likely desperate, inglorious one of trying to
keep old Anazeh sober.

Of course, the Koran forbids wine. But whiskey is not wine. And
if you mix whiskey and wine together they cease to be either;
they become a commodity of which the Prophet knew nothing and
which he therefore did not forbid. But if you introduce such a
mixture into the stomach, and thence into the brain of an already
fiery Bedouin; and then introduce the Bedouin to trouble; and
if, in addition to the trouble, you provide impertinent, alien,
and what he calls infidel restraint, it is fair to presume that
the mixture might explode.

It seemed to me I had been given too much to do. In order to get
introductions to the notables I must first get ben Nazir into a
proper frame of mind. Then, stammering in an alien tongue, I
must make friends with chieftains who had never even heard of me;
and that, when their minds were busy with another matter. I must
keep in touch with ben Hamza, and convey his messages to Grim
without being seen or arousing suspicion. In addition to all
that I must keep sober by some means an old savage armed with
two rifles and a knife, who had twenty cut-throats at his beck
and call!

While I pondered the problem in all its impossible bearings, loud
snores to right and left of me, tenor and bass by turns,
announced that Jimgrim and Anazeh were as blissfully oblivious to
my worries as the bedbugs were that had come out of hiding and
discovered me. I began to feel homesick.

Chapter Six

"That man will repay study."

I got my first shot at Anazeh at dawn, when the muezzin began
wailing over the city; and I missed badly with both barrels.
The old sheikh looked into my room, presumably to see if I was
still alive, since he had guaranteed to see me safely back again
across the Jordan, before rounding up his rascals for morning
prayer. They prayed together whenever possible, Anazeh keeping
count of their genuflections.

You could tell he had been drinking the night before the minute
he thrust his head into the room. He smelt like the lees of a
rum barrel, and the rims of his eyes were red.

Seeing I was awake he gave me the courteous, full-sounding "Allah
ysabbhak bilkhair," and I asked him where he had dined the night
before. He mumbled somethi