to the man.

'They are foolish,' he replied, 'to grumble at the figure of a mill
which grinds good flour. They profit by his cooking, which is
excellent. Indeed, he is the best cook in the world, and most
particular. I took great trouble to secure him for this expedition,
knowing that the Khawajat were friends of yours.' The tone of
grievance in his voice became acute.

I feared that he was going to cry, so answered quickly:

'It is not that. They like his cooking. But his manners----'

'What know they of his manners? Has he ever entered the saloon or
bed-tent to defile them? Has he ever spoken insult in their hearing?
Inform me of his crime, and I will beat him bloody. But well I know he
has done nothing wrong, for I have kept him in the strictest order all
these days. It is only his appearance they object to; and that is
God's affair, not theirs. The Lord repay them!'

'You say that you have kept him in strict order? Is that necessary?'

'Of course it is, for the poor man is mad. I thought his madness would
amuse them; it is very funny. But Allah knows that there is not a
laugh in all their bodies. So I have kept him from approaching them.'

The word 'majnun,' which I have here translated 'mad,' has often, as I
knew, a complimentary value; and I gathered from Suleyman's way of
speaking that the cook was not a raving maniac, but rather what in
English country-places we should call 'a character.'

I cultivated his acquaintance after that, and was astonished by his
powers of story-telling and of mimicry; still more, perhaps, by a
curious, dry scepticism, expressed facetiously and sometimes with
profanity, which was evident in almost everything he said. This it was
which chiefly pleased the waiter and the muleteers, who were his usual
listeners, since they were together on the road. They would laugh and
curse him in religious terms for a blasphemer and a wicked atheist,
reproofs which he received as high applause. It was his custom to
salute his friends with insults, which they took kindly from him,
being what he was. They told me in low tones of awe, yet with a
chuckle, that he had even sold his father's grave in a facetious way.
But I could never get them to relate that story clearly.

I could understand then why Suleyman had kept him in strict order on
the journey; for my English friends were quite incapable of seeing any
fun in such a character. Nor did I ever tell them of the great
adventure of that journe