ep
him feeling normal--never mind whose camel it is, nor what power
claims to control the desert--there will be trouble for somebody
and sport for him.

So, since it can have no end and no beginning, you might define
this as an episode--a mere interval between pipes, as it were, in
the amusing career of Ali Higg ben Jhebel ben Hashim, self-styled
Lion of Petra, Lord of the Wells, Chief of the Chiefs of the
Desert, and Beloved of the Prophet of Al-Islam; not forgetting,
though, that his career was even supposed to amuse his victims or
competitors. The fun is his, the fury other people's.

The beginning as concerns me was when I moved into quarters in
Grim's mess in Jerusalem. As a civilian and a foreigner I could
not have done that, of course, if it had been a real mess; but
Grim, who gets fun out of side-stepping all regulations, had
established a sort of semi-military boarding-house for junior
officers who were tired of tents, and he was too high up in the
Intelligence Department for anybody less than the administrator
to interfere with him openly.

He did exactly as he pleased in that and a great many other
matters--did things that no British-born officer would have dared
do (because they are all crazy about precedent) but what they
were all very glad to have Grim do, because he was a bally
American, don't you know, and it was dashed convenient and all
that. And Grim was a mighty good fellow, even if he did like
syrup on his sausages.

The main point was that Grim was efficient. He delivered the
goods. He was perfectly willing to quit at any time if they did
not like his methods; and they did not want him to quit, because
there is nothing on earth more convenient for men in charge
of public affairs than to have a good man on their string
who can be trusted to break all rules and use horse-sense on
suitable occasion.

I had been in the mess about two days, I think, doing nothing
except read Grim's books and learn Arabic, when I noticed signs
of impending activity. Camel saddles began to be brought out from
somewhere behind the scenes, carefully examined, and put away
again. Far-sighted men with the desert smell on them, which is
more subtly stirring and romantic than all other smells, kept
coming in to squat on the rugs in the library and talk with Grim
about desert trails, and water, and what tribal feuds were in
full swing and which were in abeyance.

Then, about the fourth or fifth day, the best two camel