CHAPTER IX
"Godwin dear," said Ramizail, in a voice which for her was small and deferential indeed.
"Yes?" he said. He had been dreaming in the saddle of battles he had fought and brawls he would engage in.
"Godwin, my own, I'm seasick."
He stared across at her. El Sareuk said, "Niece, you were straddling a pony before you could toddle! This is unworthy of you."
"I don't care. I'm seasick." Her face was pale and beads of sweat stood on her forehead. "I'm afraid I'm going to disgrace myself," she said, and promptly did.
Godwin started to laugh. Then he stopped, and put a hand tentatively to his own belly. "El Sareuk," he said, "I don't feel so sprightly myself."
The Arab chieftain nodded. "You look like a poisoned camel, my friend. What ails you?"
"God knows. I too was almost born a-horseback. But, hang it, there's something the matter with this steed. He keeps going buckety-clomp."