some of them
had seen what actually happened when Ali Higg raided Dat Ras.
Certainly they came from scattered settlements, on which Ali Higg
could take detailed vengeance whenever it suited him.

"Ye know me! I wait here for the train. I shall ride on it to
where the Lion of Petra waits. Who dares interfere with me or
follow? Let him name himself! Who dares?"

Her savagery fed itself on threats, and increased as she felt
herself grow mistress of the situation. Partly the primitive love
of power, partly the animal instinct to subject and oppress--pride
on top of that, and something of her sex, too, glorying in
giving orders to the self-styled sterner members--drove her
to increasing frenzy.

And it was not fear alone that impressed the crowd and impelled
it to obedience, for those highland Bedouins are, after all, too
practical for that. We were but nine all told, to their seven or
eight score, and they might have enforced the logic of that
first, and left the threatened consequences for afterward, but
for the appeal of the spectacular.

It bewildered them to be harangued confidently by a woman--they
who were used to watching women carry loads. There was something
revolutionary about it that took their breath away, and swept
their own determination into limbo.

As always, the men in the background, who felt they could avoid
recognition, were the only ones who ventured to raise objection.
One or two of them started to laugh, that being the best answer
all the world over to any threat, and if the laugh had spread
that would likely have been the end of us. I had unslung my rifle
and held it in full view resting on my thigh, being minded to
look as murderous as possible, but she stole all my thunder by
suddenly snatching the rifle away and drawing back its bolt to
cock the spring with that almost effortless adroitness that comes
of long use.

"Who laughs at the Lion of Petra's threat?" she screamed, raising
herself in the saddle to survey the crowd. "Who laughs? He shall
die by the hand of a woman! Who laughs, I say?"

But nobody wanted to die by a woman's hand; and nobody chose to
slay the woman, because of the certainty of vengeance dealt by an
expert in terrorism. I know I didn't doubt she would have used
the rifle, and I don't suppose they did. If she couldn't be
laughed out of countenance the only alternative was bloodshed,
and none dared show fight.

Old Ali Baba worked his camel closer, and, because an A