Now the previous autumn, on their downward journey, the Heriki had lifted two or three thousand sheep belonging to some Christian villages. The villagers appealed to the English, and the English to the Government; but of course there was not the least chance of obtaining any redress. The following spring, however, when the Heriki were nearly due again, we received a visit from the Sheikh of Barzan, who himself (though he did not say so) seemed to have a crow to pick with the tribe. "See here, Effendim," he argued; "the _Hukumet_ can never get those sheep for you. We know they haven't got troops enough to get their own taxes this year. Now supposing it were suggested to the _Vali_ that _I_ should be appointed to collect those taxes. Perhaps it is even possible I might get back some of the sheep." The Effendi shrugged his shoulders, and did not think much would come of it; but the astute old _Vali_ of Mosul saw the humour of the notion at once. It was quite true he had given up hope of getting the Heriki's taxes. He even anticipated difficulty in getting the Sheikh of Barzan's. This scheme would lubricate the bearings most admirably in both directions: and the Sheikh was appointed tax-collector _pro hac vice_ by return of post. The Heriki came down to their bridge, rejoicing to find it unoccupied. They crossed, and pushed on to Suryi, and the Sheikh broke down the bridge behind. They entered the Oramar valley; and a few miles up they found the "Boys of the Belt" barring it, with the Sheikh's _Ban_ and _arrière Ban_ posted on the crags around them; and received a polite demand-note from his Holiness the _Fermier Général_ requesting immediate payment of taxes, sheep, _and costs_. Even a Government regiment could hardly have got so much without fighting; but the Sheikh had thrown his net so deftly that his captives could not even kick. There was nothing for it but to pay, and look pleasant, and this the Heriki chiefs did with what grace they could. We confess that we doubt grievously whether any large percentage of sheep got back to their original owners; but all the country was jubilant to see the original biters so badly bit. We held our course up the valley for about three hours--and a bittock; and at this point Ibrahim the Erdilite cheerfully observed that we were just half way. As he had previously assured us that the total distance was three hours we were provoked to "pour cold words on him." All sorts of things get "poured" in Syriac: you "pour" your guest into bed; you "pour" your enemy into prison;[90] you "pour a howl" at a man when you shout at him from a distance; and to "pour cold words" upon him is to "give him a bit of your mind." However, we could not blame poor Ibrahim very severely for a fault which he shares with all his nation--a total inability to conceive any measurement of time.