'Hi, Miss,' cried the Barghî chief, a man of colossal stature, 'Can't yer look where yer a shovin' to?' Though his words were unintelligible, his tone was insulting. Leonora rose to her feet, and to the occasion. By virtue of her rare acquaintance with savage customs, she was able to taunt the Barghîz with the horrors of their tribal mystery, to divulge which is _Death_! She openly insulted the secret orgies of the tribe. _She denounced the Dog-Feast!_ 'WHO ATE THE PUPPY PIE UNDER MARLOWE BRIDGE?' shrilled Leonora in her proud sweet young voice. In a moment a shower of stones struck the dhow, and spurred the water into storm. Frank Muller, the Barghî chief, distinguished himself by the fury of his imprecations and the accuracy of his aim. A smothered groan told me that Ustâni had been hit in the mouth. _Whid, whad, crash_ went the stones, while Leonora plied the pole with desperate energy, and I erected the patent reversible umbrellas with which we were provided to catch any breath of favourable wind. The fierce rapidity of the stream finally carried us out of the reach of the infuriated Barghîz (who, moreover, were providentially slain by lightning--a common enough occurrence in that favoured climate, where nobody thinks anything of it), and we rested, weary and wounded, in a sheltered backwater.[17] [17] Are you not gliding insensibly into _Bess_?--PUBLISHER. No; all right. It is a tremendous country for storms; can't use them too often; adds to the sense of reality.--ED. 'The dhow's looking rather dowdy,' said Leonora, glancing at the shattered craft. 'If doughty deeds my lady please,' said I, catching her light tone, 'why, she must take the consequences. But, Leonora,' I added, shuddering, 'I'm sure my feet are damp.' If there is one thing I dread it is damp feet. 'No wonder,' said Leonora, calmly. 'The dhow has sprung a leek.' I searched the dhow everywhere, but could find no trace of the vegetable. Meanwhile the water had risen above the capstan, and Ustâni, shivering audibly, had perched himself on the bowsprit. 'Now or never,' said Leonora, 'is the moment for our life-belts.' We hurriedly put on our life-belts, regretting the absence of an experienced maid. 'I'll be Mrs. Lecks, and you'll be Mrs. Aleshine!' laughed Leonora, as the dhow, shuddering in all her timbers, collapsed. '_Ego et Lecks mea!_' cried I, not to seem deficient in opportune gaiety of allusion, and we were in the water. We advanced briskly down stream, Ustâni propelling himself with the pole of the dhow. Ever anxious about Ustâni's University education (interrupted by this expedition), Leonora kept 'coaching' him in the usual way. 'Bow, you're feathering under water,' she exclaimed, when the unfortunate Ustâni disappeared in a lasher, where we, thanks to our life-belts, floated gaily enough. Here we paused to catch a few of the perch and gudgeons, which Leonora had attracted by carefully wearing white stockings.