“Yes,” said Yussuf, with a grave smile of satisfaction. “Your excellency can fight, I see.”
“But we are entirely without arms,” repeated Mr Burne excitedly.
“Not quite,” replied Yussuf calmly. “Your excellency has a big stick; the effendi here has hands and strength that would enable him to throw an enemy into the sea, and I never go a journey without my pistol and a knife.”
“You have a pistol?” said Mr Burne eagerly.
“Be quite calm, excellency,” said Yussuf, laughing as he smoked, and bowing down as if something droll had been said. “Yes, I have a pistol of many barrels given to me by a Frankish effendi when we returned from a journey through the land of Abraham, and then down to the stony city in the desert—Petra, where the Arab sheiks are fierce and ready to rob all who are not armed and strong.”
“Where is it?” said the professor.
“Safe in my bosom, effendi, where my hand can touch it ere you blink an eye. So you see that we are not quite without arms. But listen,” he continued; “this may be all a fancy of mine.”
“Then you will do nothing?” exclaimed Mr Burne.
“Oh no, I do not say that, effendi. We must be watchful. Two must sleep, and two must watch night or day. The enemy must not come to the gate and find it open ready for him to enter in.”
“Those are the words of wisdom,” said the professor gravely, and Yussuf’s eyes brightened and he bowed.