I
had a strong English hunting-whip, and was wearing a short riding-habit.
So I sprang nimbly from my saddle, and seized him by the throat, twisting
his necktie tightly, and at the same time showering blows upon his head,
face, and shoulders with the butt-end of my whip till he howled for
mercy. My servant, who was a little way behind, heard the noise at this
moment, and, seeing how I was engaged thought that I was attacked, and
flew to the rescue. Six men flung themselves upon him, and during
the struggle his pistol or blunderbuss went off, and the ball whizzed
past our heads to lodge in the plaster wall. It might have shot me as
well as Hasan, though afterwards this fact was used against me. The
native Christians all threw themselves on the ground, as they often
do when there is any shooting. The brother of Hasan then dragged him
howling away from me. I mounted my horse again, and rode on amid the
curses of his brothers. "We will follow you," they shouted, "with sticks
and stones and guns, and at night we will come in a party and burn your
house, and whenever we meet an English son of a pig we will kill him."
"Thank you for your warning," I said; "you may be quite sure I shall be
ready for you."
I went home and waited to see if any apology would be offered, but none
came. The Shaykhs came up, and the Christians told me if I allowed this
insult to pass in silence they would be unable to stay in the village,
they were too few.
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