I ought to have mentioned that three times since
we had set out from Damascus he had ridden short across me when we were
at full gallop. The first time I begged him not to do so, as it was
very dangerous, and the second time I threatened him, and the third
time I broke my hunting-whip across his face. He merely said, "All
is finished," and hung back. However, I did not think anything more
of it, and I went in and had my supper. While we were eating, and my
back was turned, he threw the reins of my horse to a bystander, and,
drawing a sword, he cut the throat of the good, useful, little horse
which I had hired for him, and which he had been riding all day. I
saw people running, and heard a certain amount of confusion while I
was eating; but being very tired and hungry, I did not look round.
Presently somebody let it out. I rose in a rage, determined to
dismiss the man at once; but Richard checked me with a word, and
pointed out the unwisdom of making him an open enemy, and desired
me to put a good face on the matter till the end of the journey.
The explanation of the little beast's conduct was this. He had really
wanted to ride a thorough-bred horse, but it was ridden instead by my
dragoman's brother, and his rage had been uncontrollable when he saw the
coveted animal caracolling before him. Moreover, he had a spite against
me, and he thought that if he killed his own horse I should give him a
better one, by some process of oriental reasoning which I do not pretend
to understand.
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