Mrs. Gainsborough was transferring all consideration for herself to the mule.
“And he’s to throw away that stick.”
This clause was only accepted by the other side with a good deal of protestation.
“And he’s to keep his hands and feet to himself, and not to throw stones or nothing at the poor beast, who’s got quite enough to do to carry me.”
“And Ali Baba’s to ride in front.” She indicated the trooper. “It gets me on the blink when he’s behind me, as if I was in a shooting-gallery. If he’s going to be any use to us, which I doubt, he’ll be more useful in front than hiding behind me.”
“All right,” said Don Alfonso, who was anxious to get on, because they had a long way to go.
“And that’s enough of ‘all right’ from him,” said Mrs. Gainsborough. “I don’t want to hear any more ‘all rights.’”
At midday they reached a khan, where they ate lunch and rested for two hours in the shade.
Soon after they had started again, they met a small caravan with veiled women and mules loaded with oranges.
“Quite pleasant-looking people,” Mrs. Gainsborough beamed. “I should have waved my hand if I could have been sure of not falling off again. Funny trick, wearing that stuff round their faces. I suppose they’re ashamed of being so black.”