From the beginning of our
acquaintance I have allowed my escort to think my understanding of the
conversation going on among themselves is extremely limited. By this
means have they been thrown somewhat off their guard, and frequently
committed themselves within my hearing. It is their laudable purpose, I
have discovered, to steal money from me if an opportunity presents
without the chance of being detected. Besides being inquisitive about the
probable amount in my possession, there has evolved from their collective
brain during the day, a deep-laid scheme to find out something about the
amount of backsheesh they may expect me to bestow upon them at the end of
our journey. This deep-laid scheme is for the khan to pretend that he is
sending the mirza and the mudbake back to Beerjand from this point, and
for these two hopeful accomplices to present themselves before me as
about ready to depart, and so demand backsheesh. This little farce is
duly played shortly after our arrival; it is a genuine piece of light
comedy, acted on the strangely realistic stage of the lonely desert, to
which the full round moon just rising above the eastern horizon. These
advances are met on my part by broad intimations that if they continue to
act as ridiculously during the remainder of the journey as they have
to-day they will surely get well bastinadoed, instead of backsheeshed,
when we reach Ghalakua.
Pages:
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253