A Desert Diana
He shook his head and I saw a convulsive swallow traverse the length of his triplicate chins. Then he motioned me aside, out of ear-shot of the others.
“Not lions,” he whispered, “but worse ... a madder, wilder beast. O, listen, I pray, important Sheik el-Dhub, listen and heed. We are in the land of Azad,—Azad the Terrible. In yonder defiles he lurks and who so ventures therein is defiled.”
I should mention in passing that there was no suspicion of a pun in Effendi’s original statement which was delivered in the Astrachan dialect: the horrid thing is unavoidable in an honest translation.
“Azad!” he continued,—“you have heard of him? Murder, blood, rapine ... they are but beads on his rosary. O, magnificent Moplah, I fear for our lives ... for our lady. Ai! Ai!”
He lay grovelling at my feet.
“Rise, Effendi,” I ordered. “Due caution will be exercised.”