Now, the day was the sixth day of the moon: a distance of some forty-six miles lay between us and the Holy City: and, furthermore, since the Pilgrims had to leave Mecca on the 8th for the hill of Arafat, it followed that we had not a single moment to lose in making preparations for our journey. With many words Seyyid ’Alí staked his wages that, by hiring asses and riding alone, we could cover the road in eleven hours. “Of course,” said he, “we must run the risk of being attacked by Bedouins who lie in wait for stragglers. Indeed, only two days ago, so the rumour runs in the bazaars, a caravan of forty Persian pilgrims was robbed on leaving Heddah for Mecca: and everybody we meet--depend upon it--will do his utmost to terrify us with blood-curdling stories of Arab lawlessness and violence. However, let us pin our faith not in firearms and bravado, but in our cool heads and our stout hearts. And, in the meanwhile, I will take you to a caravanserai, where we shall find an acquaintance of mine, who is the owner of a drove of the fleetest asses in Hejaz. His name is Nassir, and he owns allegiance to the fighting clan of Harb. From him we will hire three donkeys: one for your Excellency, one for the effects we have with us, and a third for myself. Nassir will accompany us on foot, and be a protector to us in the wilderness. Let us hasten lest his services be engaged.” After bartering with Nassir, it was settled that I should pay him two dollars for the use of each animal (two-thirds to be paid in advance and one-third on alighting in Mecca), while he himself was to receive, in return for his services, a _bakhshísh_ in proportion to his usefulness on the road. In appearance he was a typical representative of his race, both in bearing and in dress, as well as in accoutrements and in strength. Tall and lean, he had the appearance of a man that had been baked in an oven: his skin was as brown and as wrinkled as a walnut-shell, his features seemed to leap out of the face, while his eyes declared the nobility of a virile though savage nature. He wore a long yellow shirt, reaching below the knees, with a red cotton belt round the waist, in which was stuck an ugly-looking dagger. Slung crosswise over his back a Bedouin generally carries an old-fashioned flint rifle, having a barrel some two yards in length, with a bow-shaped stock covered all over with small square chips of white shells. For this ungainly weapon Nassir substituted a stout Arab club, which was a fortunate thing for Seyyid ’Alí, perhaps, inasmuch as wordy wars between the two men came to be of hourly occurrence.