you’ll have to pay forty shillings to the Arabs!  There’s no getting over that.  The consul won’t even look after your dead body, if you get murdered, without going through that ceremony.”

Mr. Smith immediately produced his purse, which he tendered to me.  “If you will manage it all,” said he, “it will make it so much the easier, and I shall be infinitely obliged to you.”  This of course I declined to do.  I had no business with his purse, and explained to him that if we went together we could settle that on our return to Jerusalem.  “But could he go through really hard work?” I asked.  He answered me with an assurance that he would and could do anything in that way that it was possible for man to perform.  As for eating and drinking he cared nothing about it, and would undertake to be astir at any hour of the morning that might be named.  As for sleeping accommodation, he did not care if he kept his clothes on for a week together.  He looked slight and weak; but he spoke so well, and that without boasting, that I ultimately agreed to his proposal, and in a few minutes he took his leave of me, promising to be at Z—’s door with his horse at five o’clock on the following morning.

“I wish you’d allow me to leave my purse with you,” he said again.

“I cannot think of it.  There is no possible occasion for it,” I said again.  “If there is anything to pay, I’ll ask you for it when the journey is over.  That forty shillings you must fork out.  It’s a law of the Medes and Persians.”

“I’d better give it you at once,” he said again, offering me money.  But I would not have it.  It would be quite time enough for that when the Arabs were leaving us.

“Because,” he added, “strangers, I know, are sometimes suspicious about money; and I would not, for worlds, have you think that I would put you to expense.”  I assured him that I did not think so, and then the subject was dropped.

He was, at any rate, up to his time, for when I came down on the following morning I found him in the narrow street, the first on horseback.  Joseph, the Frenchman, was strapping on to a rough pony our belongings, and was staring at Mr. Smith.  My new friend, unfortunately, could not speak a word of French, and therefore I had to explain to the dragoman how it had come to pass that our party was to be enlarged.

“But the Bedouins will expect full pay for both,” said he, alarmed.  Men in that class, and especially Orientals, always think that every arrangement of life, let it be made in what way it will, is made with the intention of saving some expense, or cheating somebody out of some money.  They do not understand that men can have any other object, and are ever on their guard lest the saving should be made at their cost, or lest they should be the victims of the fraud.

“All right,” said I.

“I shall be responsible, Monsieur,” said the dragoman, piteously.

“It shall be all right,” said I, again.  “If that does not satisfy you, you may remain behind.”

“If Monsieur says it is all right, of course it is so;” and then he completed his strapping.  We took blankets with us, of which I had to borrow two out of the hotel for my friend Smith, a small hamper of provisions, a sack containing forage for the horses, and a large empty jar, so that we might supply ourselves with water when leaving the neighbourhood of wells for any considerable time.

“I ought to have brought these things for myself,” said Smith, quite unhappy at finding that he had thrown on me the necessity of catering for him.  But I laughed at him, saying that it was nothing; he should do as much for me another time.  I am prepared to own that I do not willingly rush up-stairs and load myself with blankets out of strange rooms for men whom I do not know; nor, as a rule, do I make all the Smiths of the world free of my canteen.  But, with reference to this fellow I did feel more than ordinarily good-natured and unselfish.  There was something in the tone of his voice which was satisfactory; and I should really have felt vexed had anything occurred at the last moment to prevent his going with me.

Let it be a rule with every man to carry an English saddle with him when travelling in the East.  Of what material is formed the nether man of a Turk I have never been informed, but I am sure that it is not flesh and blood.  No flesh and blood,—simply flesh and blood,—could withstand the wear and tear of a Turkish saddle.  This being the case, and the consequences being well known to me, I was grieved to find that Smith was not properly provided.  He was seated on one of those hard, red, high-pointed machines, in which the shovels intended to act as stirrups are attached in such a manner, and hang at such an angle, as to be absolutely destructive to the leg of a Christian.  There is no part of the Christian body with which the Turkish saddle comes in contact that does not become more or less macerated.  I have sat in one for days, but I left it a flayed man; and, therefore, I was sorry for Smith.

I explained this to him, taking hold of his leg by the calf to show how the leather would chafe him; but it seemed to me that he did not quite like my interference.  “Never mind,” said he, twitching his leg away, “I have ridden in this way before.”

“Then you must have suffered the very mischief?”

“Only a little, and I shall be used to it now.  You will not hear me complain.”

“By heavens, you might have heard me complain a mile off when I came to the end of a journey I once took.  I roared like a bull when I began to cool.  Joseph, could you not get a European saddle for Mr. Smith?”  But Joseph did not seem to like Mr. Smith, and declared such a thing to be impossible.  No European in Jerusalem would think of lending so precious an article, except to a very dear friend.  Joseph himself was on an English saddle, and I made up my mind that after the first stage, we would bribe him to make an exchange.  And then we started.

The Bedouins were not with us, but we were to meet them, as I have said before, outside St. Stephen’s gate.  “And if they are not there,” said Joseph, “we shall be sure to come across them on the road.”

“Not there!” said I.  “How about the consul’s tariff, if they don’t keep their part of the engagement?”  But Joseph explained to me that their part of the engagement really amounted to this,—that we should ride into their country without molestation, provided that such and such payments were made.

It was the period of Easter, and Jerusalem was full of pilgrims.  Even at that early hour of the morning we could hardly make our way through the narrow streets.  It must be understood that there is no accommodation in the town for the fourteen or fifteen thousand strangers who flock to the Holy Sepulchre at this period of the year.  Many of them sleep out in the open air, lying on low benches which run along the outside walls of the houses, or even on the ground, wrapped in their thick hoods and cloaks.  Slumberers such as these are easily disturbed, nor are they detained long at their toilets.  They shake themselves like dogs, and growl and stretch themselves, and then they are ready for the day.

We rode out of the town in a long file.  First went the groom-boy; I forget his proper Syrian appellation, but we used to call him Mucherry, that sound being in some sort like the name.  Then followed the horse with the forage and blankets, and next to him my friend Smith in the Turkish saddle.  I was behind him, and Joseph brought up the rear.  We moved slowly down the Via Dolorosa, noting the spot at which our Saviour is said to have fallen while bearing his cross; we passed by Pilate’s house, and paused at the gate of the Temple,—the gate which once was beautiful,—looking down into the hole of the pool in which the maimed and halt were healed whenever the waters moved.  What names they are!  And yet