Syria from the saddle . CHAPTER XXX. AROUND THE CAMP-FIRE — TALES AND SONGS OF THE CAMP. AVID had ordered a gigantic camp-fire to be built on our last night atJericho. I was still lingering overmy coffee that evening when thedragoman appeared at the dining-tent door. Serkeese has been moved to tella story, sir, he said, laughing. Heis in the middle of it now. Shouldyou like to hear him? Looking out I saw a crowd of menseated about the roaring fire,—muleteers and other servants, John,Imbarak, an old Bedouin (poet of his tribe), the youngSheik who escorted us, and two guards. All were look-ing t
Syria from the saddle . CHAPTER XXX. AROUND THE CAMP-FIRE — TALES AND SONGS OF THE CAMP. AVID had ordered a gigantic camp-fire to be built on our last night atJericho. I was still lingering overmy coffee that evening when thedragoman appeared at the dining-tent door. Serkeese has been moved to tella story, sir, he said, laughing. Heis in the middle of it now. Shouldyou like to hear him? Looking out I saw a crowd of menseated about the roaring fire,—muleteers and other servants, John,Imbarak, an old Bedouin (poet of his tribe), the youngSheik who escorted us, and two guards. All were look-ing toward the head of the ring, where the redoubtableSerkeese, having installed himself on a heap of saddlesand blankets, was holding forth in what seemed, tojudge from his gestures and occasional howls, to benothing less than a tale of war and murder. As we lay back in our sea-chairs just outside the circle,I asked David how many enemies the hero of the storyhad killed thus 281 282 STB I A FROM THE SADDLE. Its not that sort of story, sir, he answered. Itdeals with love — what you call a romance; of a pooryoung man who is in love with a princes daughter. His words were drowned by Serkeese, who at thispoint emitted a succession of prolonged screams, leapingup and throwing his arms about. Is he having a fit, David? I inquired in realanxiety. Oh no, sir. The young hero — Has begun fighting at last ? I interrupted. Iknew he was bound to get at it sooner or later. TheseOriental heroes of yours will end by depopulating yourcountry if they keep on. Excuse me, sir, there is no fight in this story, saidDavid, with some dignity. I have heard it told before,so I know. The part you thought was a fight waswhere the hero tells the prince how dearly he loves theyoung princess. Shall I translate as the boy goes on ? I declined his offer, preferring to study the listeninggroup undisturbed. The firelight shone red on thecrowd of eager figures as they leaned forward in
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890, bookidsyriafromsad, bookyear1896
