saddles
were thrown into a two-wheeled cart and sent off somewhere,
along with a tent, camp-beds, canned goods, and all the usual
paraphernalia a white man seems to need when he steps out of his
cage into the wild.

I was reading when that happened, sitting in the arm-chair facing
Grim, suppressing the impulse to ask questions, and trying to
appear unaware that anything was going on. But it seemed to me
that there was too much provision made for one man, even for a
month, and I had hopes. However, Grim is an aggravating cuss when
so disposed, and he kept me waiting until the creaking of the
departing cart-wheels and the blunt bad language of the man who
drove the mules could no longer be heard through the open window.

"Had enough excitement?" he asked me then.

"There's not enough to be had," said I, pretending to continue reading.

"Care to cut loose out of bounds?"

"Try me."

"The desert's no man's paradise this time o' year. Hotter than
Billy-be- ----, and no cops looking after the traffic. They'll
shoot a man for his shoe-leather."

"Any man can have my shoes when I can't use 'em."

"Heard of Petra?"

I nodded as casually as I could. Everybody who has been to
Palestine has heard of that place, where an inaccessible city was
carved by the ancients out of solid rock, only to be utterly
forgotten for centuries until Burkhardt rediscovered it.

"Heard too much. I don't believe a word of it."

"There's a problem there to be straightened out," said Grim.
"It's away and away beyond the British border; too far south for
the Damascus government to reach; too far north for the king of
Mecca; too far east for us; much too far west for the Mespot
outfit. East of the sun and west of the moon you might say.
There's a sheikh there by the name of Ali Higg. I'm off to tackle
him. Care to come?"

"When do we start?"

"Now, from here. Tonight from Hebron. I'll give you time to make
your will, write to your lady-love, and crawl out if you care to.
Ali Higg is hot stuff. Suppose we leave it this way: I'll go on
to Hebron. You think it over. You can overtake me at Hebron any
time before tonight, and if you do, all right; but if second
thoughts make you squeamish about crucifixion--they tell me
that Ali Higg makes a specialty of that--I'll say you're wise
to stay where you are. In any case I start from Hebron tonight.
Suit yourself."

Any man in his senses would get squeamish about crucifixion if he
sat long enoug