the track, at the point where that
tomb stands above a narrow pass between two big rocks. Do you
remember it?"

"What if he won't wait?"

"He must! Tell him I'll have a prisoner with me; then he'll be
curious. But you can bet on old Anazeh when he's sober. But
things may turn out so that it's simpler for you to stay and see
this through with me. In that case you must persuade him to go
without you, after explaining to him just where he's to wait."

"How shall I do that?" I said. "I haven't enough Arabic."

"I'll write it," he answered. "Give me that pencil."

"Say something, too, then about his keeping sober."

Grim nodded, and wrote quite a long letter in Arabic on a page of
my notebook.

"The next move," he said, as I pocketed the letter, "is for me to
get Abdul Ali's goat: I think--and I hope--he'll try to bribe
me. If he does, he's my meat! The whole question of raid or no
raid hangs on their confidence in him. If I throw suspicion on
him, and he disappears directly afterwards, they'll abandon the
plan, confiscate his goods and chattels, and quarrel among
themselves instead of raiding Palestine. Get me?"

"Um-n-yes. I've sat on a horse I was warned against--felt
safer--and gone to hospital at that."

He laughed.

"No hospitals up here! It'll be soon over if they get wise to
us. But I think we're all right; and you're almost certainly
safe. But don't be tempted to talk. Well--we've been up here
long enough for me to have put you through the third degree.
Better look a bit uncomfortable as you go down, as if I'd got
under your skin with some awkward questions. You, too, ben
Hamza; don't grin; look afraid."

"I am not at all afraid, Jimgrim. But I will try."

Grim studied for a moment.

"Don't forget," he added, "at the first suggestion that you're
not wanted, make yourself scarce, and go and round up your men.
If you're thrown out pretty roughly, keep your temper and run."

"Taht il-amr!" (Yours to command.)

"Come on, then. Let's go."

The sun was fairly low over the Judean Hills as we turned down
the narrow stairs and found Anazeh waiting at the bottom.

Chapter Nine

"Feet downwards, too afraid to yell!"--

Abdul Ali of Damascus was holding the floor again when we
returned. He had abandoned the cold air of mysterious authority
and secrets in reserve. His claim to backstairs influence having
been challenged, he had resorted to the emotional appeal that i