WE RIDE IN GHRAZZU 137

their own and would be returning in force. They had
led us eastward hoping to effect a junction with the
Roualla, and turn on us. They had effected this junc-
tion with the Roualla advance guard, and it had been
sent against us as a "bait" to hold us exigaged, if we were
stupid enough to stand, until their main force came up.

Mitkhal believed that the Sirdieh, having led us nicely
into this counter-trap, would swing homeward, but that
the Roualla main force would give us a hard run, not
merely to kill (the Bedouin avoids useless bloodshed in
ghrazzu}, but with the hope of taking many of our
horses.

I don't know to this day whether the Roualla were close
on our heels or not, during that (to me) hellish thirty-
hour forced ride that brought us back to the border of
Transjordania. Not another shot was fired, not a sign of
a pursuer ever appeared behind us. An exhilarating mix-
ture of fear, excitement, and curiosity had kept me fairly
up to scratch, but now I was too far gone to care much
about anything. I discovered that my thumb was worn
raw from the rope rein and that I was clinging with both
hands to the wooden saddle pommel. I wasn't dying of
hunger or thirst, but my mouth and throat were drier
than I had ever imagined they could be. Fortunately
Mitkhal recognized my plight and at our first short stop
insisted that I get "aboard" one of the five hejin which
had been brought along with extra water and fodder.
(The hejin are more than a match for horses in long going,
but are not ridden in gkrazzu because they are not so good
as horses in quick maneuvering.) It was a blessed relief,
and I managed to hang on, half asleep during a good deal
of the time* I think we made several more brief stops