I had had experience of such quarrels before, and I quickly looked to see where the rifles were. It was with deep relief that I saw them safely fastened on the camels’ backs. The men had only sticks to fight with, but, even so, prompt action was necessary before the trouble became more acute.
I galloped my horse among the men and pushed him between the two groups of combatants, brusquely ordering Ahmed and Abdullahi to stand back. It was a most difficult moment, with one side my own men and the other the men of my caravan.
Senussi Bu Hassan and Hamid looked back, and for the flicker of a second I saw their eyes rest on the slung rifles. One word of encouragement from me to the other party would have meant disaster, for the Bedouins outnumbered us. On the other hand, it was not the time, even if my own men were in the wrong, to humiliate them before the Bedouins.
“What do you mean by behaving like children?” I demanded impartially of the men on both sides. “Men like you ought to be ashamed.”
Hamid started to speak. “He insulted me.”
Ahmed interrupted him. “He attacked me as I came off my camel.”
“I don’t care who insulted whom or who attacked whom,” I declared sharply. “You are all my men, and it is a shame to have you behave like a batch of children.”
Just then Zerwali came up. I turned to Abdullahi and then to Senussi Bu Hassan. “And you older men, instead of bringing peace, actually take part in this disgraceful quarrel,” I said severely. “Perhaps I have made a mistake. I should have chosen men for my caravan and not boys.”
By this time both parties had begun to cool down and to lose their tense look of men about to spring to the attack. Zerwali, who probably expected me to take the side of my compatriots, Abdullahi and Ahmed, was disarmed and did the unexpected thing.
“Put Hamid on the ground,” he ordered the slave Faraj. “I will beat him with my whip.”