The best short stories of 1917, and the yearbook of the American short story
General
The best short stories of 1917, and the yearbook of the American short story
American fiction -- 20th century; Short stories -- 20th century -- Bibliography; Short stories -- 20th century -- Indexes; Short stories, American
The end of that day, nevertheless, found our sight-seer smoking
cigarettes in Shir Ali Khan's garden at Dizful and listening to the
camel bells that jingled from the direction of certain tall black
pointed arches straddling the dark river. When Matthews looked at those
arches by sunlight, and at the queer old flat-topped yellow town visible
through them, he regretted that he had made up his mind to continue his
journey so soon. However, he was coming back. So he packed off Gaston
and the Bakhtiari to Sheleilieh, where they and their motor-boat
belonged. And he himself, with his servant Abbas and the _charvadar_ of
whom they hired horses, set out at nightfall for the mountain citadel of
Bala Bala. For there the great Salman Taki Khan, chieftain of the lower
Lurs, otherwise known as the Father of Swords, was to celebrate as
became a redoubtable vassal of a remote and youthful suzerain the
coronation of Ahmed Shah Kajar.
It was nearly morning again when, after a last scramble up a trough of
rocks and gravel too steep for riding, the small cavalcade reached a
plateau in the shadow of still loftier elevations. Here they were
greeted by a furious barking of dogs. Indeed it quickly became necessary
to organize a defence of whips and stones against the guardians of that
high plateau. The uproar soon brought a shout out of the darkness. The
_charvadar_ shouted back, and after a long-distance colloquy there
appeared a figure crowned by the tall _kola_ of the Brazilian's boatmen,
who drove the dogs away. The dialect in which he spoke proved
incomprehensible to Matthews. Luckily it was not altogether so to Abbas,
that underling long resigned to the eccentricities of the _Firengi_,
whose accomplishments included even a sketchy knowledge of his master's
tongue. It appeared that the law of Bala Bala forbade the door of the
Father of Swords to open before sunrise. But the tall-hatted one offered
the visitor the provisional hospitality of a black tent, of a refreshing
drink of goats' buttermilk, and of a comfortable felt whereon to stretch
cramped legs.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account