“True, wallah,” said the zaptieh.
Presently there came up the road towards us a train of loaded camels.
“These are men of Ḳaisarîyeh,” said Fattûḥ. “I know them by their dress.” And as the first string of camels drew near, he shouted to the man sitting half-asleep upon the leading animal: “Are you from the port, the port of Beilân?”
“Evvet, evvet,” he answered drowsily, and his body rocked with the long rocking of the camel’s stride as they plodded past.
“Nasl Kirk Khân?” cried Fattûḥ. “How does Kirk Khân?”
Kirk Khân is a Christian village at the foot of the Beilân Pass, between Aleppo and Alexandretta.
The next cameleer had come up with his string and he answered the question.
“The giaour are all killed,” he answered, taking Fattûḥ for a Moslem.
“And how are the houses, the houses of the giaour?” Fattûḥ called out. The leader of the next string answered—
“They are all burnt.”