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Updated: June 6, 2025
"Ye haud yer tongue, laddie," she went on; "it's the least ye can efter a' 'at's come an' gane; an' least said's sunest mendit, Gang to yer wark."
Craven leant on the rail of the ship, a pipe between his teeth he had existed for the last four months on Said's cigarettes and waved a response to the young Sheik's final salute, then watched him stalk through the heterogeneous crowd to where two of his mounted followers were waiting for him holding his own impatient horse.
The Tibboos make Kisbee to be only eight days from Aghadez. Yesterday afternoon a portion of a large Soudan caravan arrived. A number of bullocks were amongst its beasts of burden; one of these had immense branching horns, and, according to the report of Saïd's wife, was of the same species as those found in her country, Kanemboo, near Bornou.
Said's puzzled face recalled him to himself and he translated, adding: "It's rotten luck for you, Sheik, but it's kismet. All things are ordained," he concluded almost shyly, feeling himself the worst kind of Job's comforter. The Arab shrugged. "To those who believe," he repeated gloomily, "and I, my friend, have no beliefs. What would you?
With a quick smile Said's eyes met his. With an easy swing of his graceful body he drew his horse nearer to the spirited stallion Craven was riding but did not speak. The ready flow of conversation that was habitual had apparently forsaken him. The young Arab's silence was welcome, Craven had himself no desire to speak. The dawn wind was blowing cool against his forehead, soothing him.
And when the two hours were passed and Yoshio woke him he sprang up, wide awake on the instant, refreshed by the short rest. In silence that was no longer sullen the valet indicated a complete Arab outfit he had brought back with him to the tent, but Craven waved it aside with a smile at the thought of Said's pertinacity and finished his dressing quickly.
The sound of Said's voice outside was a welcome relief. He appeared to be arguing with Yoshio, who was obstinately refusing him entrance. Craven cut short the discussion. "Let the Sheik come in, Yoshio!" he called, and laughed at the weakness of his own voice. But it was strong enough to carry as far as the tent door, and, with a flutter of draperies, the Arab Chief strode in.
As he rose from his knees he caught Said's eyes bent on him with a curious look in them of interrogation that was at once faintly mocking and yet sad. But the expression passed quickly into a boyish grin as he waved an unlit cigarette toward the fiery young priest who had seized the chance to embark on a passionate harangue.
As Craven listened to these frank revelations from the only honest Arab he had ever met he wondered what effect Said's intimate knowledge would have upon his life, how far it would influence him, and what were likely to be his future relations with the masters of the country. With a Chief less broadminded and of less innate integrity the result might easily be disastrous.
Never mind what old mates may say; never mind what such as Will Foster and his set may say; never mind what your wife may say, she'll come round and join you if you're only firm, just you sign, and then we'll ask God to bless you, and to enable you to keep your pledge." "Thomas, I will," said James Barnes, much moved; "all as you've said's perfectly true I know it.
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