hem by the world in general
and by New York people in particular.

"Whatever you do, don't let the other crew beat you," were his
concluding words. "I have ordered the helium shipped to Nukahiva by
fast steamer."

"That's good news," said John, with satisfaction, referring to the
helium, and the others accorded with him.

They dispatched a telegram to Mr. Giddings, and then started out to buy
some fruit and other foods. As they went along the narrow, crooking
street upon which they had been walking they met so many Arabs with
small sprays of dark-green leaves which they put in their mouths and
chewed, that their curiosity was aroused, and Bob asked Mr. Griggs what
the leaves were.

"Those are the leaves of the khat bush," was the response. "You must
have passed numerous plantations of such bushes up on the hillsides as
you flew over into the basin here. The Yemen Arabs like to chew the
leaves so well that they have all of the passion for them that a toper
has for whiskey, and they will spend their last rupee for a small
bundle."

"Does this chewing of the leaves intoxicate them?" asked John.

"Oh, no; the leaves are quite harmless. But they do produce a
strangely exhilarating effect upon those who chew them. If you ask a
Yemen Arab what he chews the leaves for, he will invariably look at you
with astonishment and tell you that he forgets all his troubles, sees
the most beautiful of fairies and the richest rose-gardens of Allah,
and lives in a new world."

"Do they go to the fields after it themselves?" inquired Tom.

"Not at all," said Mr. Griggs; "the khat is brought into town every
morning about eleven o'clock by long caravans of camels which proceed
from the khat farms along the mountain slopes. Long before these
camels appear in the valley, with a bundle of khat swung on each side
of the beasts, messengers on fleeter camels have brought the tidings of
approach. From the shelters of the shops, so silent except just now,
cheerful cries break out; the streets are filled with Arabs who sing
joyfully; tikka gharries rattle madly by, whips waving and turbans
awry; there are flashes of color from rich men's gowns and the sounds
of their clicking oryx-hide sandals as they rapidly strike the stony
pavements; there is a continual blunt clatter from the tom-toms in the
hands of long-gowned fellows. They are all going to the market where
the khat will soon arrive, each one anxious to have first choice and
ge