"If you find I haven't any, don't blame me."
"I won't," he answered, and I believed him.
"What else besides being dry-nurse to the king of the
Amalekites?" I asked.
"Don't trust Ahmed."
"He's a good interpreter."
"Yeh—and a poor peg. You'll have to use him—some. But don't trust him."
"Does old Anazeh know you in that disguise?" I asked.
"No, and he mustn't. I'll tell you why. All these people are religious fanatics. A horrible death is the only fate they would consider for a man caught masquerading as a holy personage the way I'm doing. But their fanaticism has a way of petering out when the gang's not there to see. In his own village I think Anazeh would laugh if I talked this ruse over with him— afterwards. But if he knew about it here, with all these other fanatics alert and fanning, he wouldn't dare not to expose me. It's a good job you asked that. If I send any message to Anazeh through you, be sure you don't give me away."
"How shall I make him believe the message is from you, then?"
"Begin with 'Jimgrim says.' He'll recognize the formula. But if he questions that, say 'A lion knows a lion in the dark.' That'll serve a double purpose—convince him and jog his memory. He ignored a request of mine—once, and I was able to get back at him. Tell you the story some day. Nowadays he's more or less dependable, unless he gets a skin-full of redeye. Well, make the most of your chance to sleep; you may have to go short later. I'm going to saw off a cord or two myself."