"Very much laughter—in Heija—in Shateif also—make much fool of Sultan—poor people very angry—sheikhs and soldiers much joy. Plenty men from Heija and Shateif come to well—tell me. All pretence—the fighting—surround fort—much powder play—news goes Muscat—Sultan’s son in much danger—want money—buy peace—money comes—son rob caravan—Sultan think wild Bedouin rob caravan—send more—son rob that—writes letter that he in much danger—Sultan thinks money never come to him—so send more money in _Bunder Abbas_." "But we saw them fighting like ’billy loo’, going it ’hammer and tongs’ yesterday. You mustn’t believe everything you hear," I said, incredulous still. Jaffa shook his head. "All game—make pretence to fight—all men know _Bunder Abbas_ bringing more money—runner come from Muscat in early morning—when they see her come, begin pretend fight—fort fires powder from cannon—men fire rifles—take no aim—only make noise. Then hurry, pretend have many wounds when masters land—take money—send masters away with good tale for Sultan." "Nonsense!" Popple Opstein blurted out; "the walls are peppered with bullet holes. We’ve seen them ourselves." Jaffa smiled again. "Make them—themselves—when merry—fire at loophole for target—all play." My chum was the first to believe the yarn. He roared with laughter. "It all fits in like a puzzle. The Prodigal Son! What a name for the chap! That’s why they all looked like cripples yesterday, and left off their bandages to-day. My holy Moses! the whole thing was a ’plant’, simply to delude us. What a chap! Didn’t you hear those girls singing and laughing? They wouldn’t have been there if there had been real fighting—or they wouldn’t have been so cheery. D’you remember the rush for water? My sacred aunt!" He kept on roaring with laughter every few minutes. As he had said, the whole thing fitted in like a puzzle. It amused him, but it did not amuse me to be made a fool of. I was very angry, though with my chum in the boat it was impossible to remain angry for long, and soon I, too, saw the funny side of the expedition, and was laughing as much as he was. And the Prodigal Son had been so anxious for us to hurry back to Muscat, and so anxious for us not to mention his poor wounded arm to his father! Of course not! It was all as plain as a pikestaff now. If the Sultan heard of it, back to Muscat he would order him, and evidently the fatted calf there was not half so much to his liking as the spree he was having in that fort. On our return to the _Bunder Abbas_ we told Jaffa not to breathe a word of this to anyone. By next night the steam gland had been repacked so, threading our way out again to the sea, we steamed back to Muscat. I went across to the _Intrepid_ and told Commander Duckworth everything. He, too, roared with laughter but quickly checked himself.