"It is of an assuredly a pleasing and noble plan," applauded Najib when
Kirby finished the divers ramifications of his discourse. "And I do not
misdoubt but what that cruel general betrembled himself inside of his
boots when they threatened to strike. If the stroking ones may not be
lawfully attackled by the pashalik troops, indeed must the general--"
"I told you there wasn't any general!" interrupted Kirby, jarred that
his luminous explanations had still left Najib more or less where it
found him, so far as any lucid idea was concerned. "And I've wasted
enough time trying to ding the notion of the thing into your thick head.
If you've got those shipment items catalogued, go back to the shaft and
check off the inventory. The first load ought to be on the way to the
coast before sunrise to-morrow. Chase!"
As he picked up the duplicate sets of the list and ran over their items
once more, Kirby tried to forget his own silly annoyance at his failure
to make the dull little Syrian comprehend a custom that had never
reached the Land of Moab.
Presently, in his absorption in his work, the American forgot the whole
incident. It was the beginning of a rush period at the mine--the busiest
month in its history was just setting in. The Alexandretta-bound
shipment of the morrow was but the first of twelve big shipments
scheduled for the next twenty-nine days.
The restoration of peace and the shutting out of several Central
European rivals had thrown an unprecedented sheaf of rush orders on the
Cabell mine.
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