THE DEAD SEA WITH THE LONE FISHERMAN IN FRONT. HE HAS JUST HEARD THAT THE FISH ARE NOT BITING AND IS SOMEWHAT DEPRESSED IN CONSEQUENCE
We went down through wild mountain gorges to the plain below. In former times the Bedouins who infest these mountains robbed the visitors and were a menace to travel, so it became the custom to "settle" with the chiefs for "protection" (from themselves) before starting. The management paid up for us and we were duly protected. In none of Gilbert and Sullivan's comic operas can any incident be found that is more delicious in its comicality and topsy-turvyism than was our experience with these bandit chiefs. They were mounted on small, nimble horses which had all the sure-footedness and agility of the chamois, and sprang from rock to rock with surprising certainty. The rider chief was armed to the teeth: he had a long rifle, that had not been fired since the last siege of Jerusalem slung across his back, round his body were courses of daggers, pistols and dirks—awfully bloodthirsty-looking things, don't you know; then he wore a magnificent, three-story turban, topped off with a big bunch of dyed green alfalfa; the tout ensemble was completed by a dark red, flowing robe which swept behind him in the wind like the wings of an angel of death. This great man would bow to us ceremoniously, place his hand on his heart, put spurs to his horse and dash to the top of the nearest hill; then, shading his eyes, he would scan the horizon with careful scrutiny. Now with leaps and bounds he would descend again, and planting himself before us in the road, would announce that there were no robbers in sight, or that his appearance had frightened them off, and then shout at the top of his voice,
"BAKSHISH! BAKSHISH!!"
although he had been already paid. There were four of them guarding us, and at the end they lined up across the road with the idea that we would have to settle, but we brushed through them, pushing some of them on their backs, so their bluff was "called."
Rooms were scarce at the Jordan hotels, and the drivers of the light carriages were anxious to get there ahead of one another in order to secure the first choice for their fares; so a general edging up took place which resulted finally in a steeplechase across the fields, in which several were thrown out. Our carriage led for the last mile, but was passed by two others at the finish, thus giving us third place and single rooms as our reward.
My apartment was a whitewashed cell, without ventilation, but it was "mine own" and I was happy. The mirror was hung so high that I had to make a pyramid of three boxes on which to stand while shaving. They were quite rickety, and I was between the Scylla of cutting my throat with the razor and the Charybdis of breaking my bones by a fall on the floor. Neither happened, however.
