I sat and watched while the others poked fun at the victim, discreetly, from the corner of the room.
But this time luck seemed to favor the judge and he began to win; the bash agha got cross again; then he got sleepy; his head began to nod, and finally he dropped off. The kadi turned to me and winked knowingly while he gathered up his winnings.
I dozed off too. Arab lunches are conducive to slumber, and I understand why the Orientals recline at their repasts. . . .
Suddenly I was roused by Madani. “We ought to be getting away,” he said, “but the bash agha is still asleep.”
“Well, wake him,” I replied.
“Oh, I can’t. None of us can; we’d never hear the end of it,” broke in Madani. “But you can.”
“But I certainly won’t,” I retorted. “I’m sleepy enough myself. Make the kadi do it!”
This seemed to amuse Madani, and he returned to the other chiefs and I saw that my suggestion was causing them joy. But not to the kadi, who, as usual, protested, and I realized that he was the sort of joke-man of the district. At last, however, he was bustled into the room.
He looked anxiously about and, finally, seeing the large brass tray on which the mechoui had been served, he took it up and dropped it with a crash on the part of the floor which was uncarpeted. Then he fled out on to the plain.
The bash agha opened one eye, then the other, then seemed about to sleep again. However, at that moment a diversion was caused by the entry of the aged agha with the statement that there was a man with a petition to make.