Argosy, Vol. 111, No. 1 — page 99: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THROUGH RABAT’S EYES. fools!” retorted the clown, and earned a gust of giggles and a guttural laugh. ‘‘ Sing us a song, O fool!”? demanded the young man. Immediately the clown began to howl dismally. ‘‘ Nay, where is thy lark?” ‘The lark sings beneath the footstool of Allah—not at the feet of the sons of Iblees (devil) ,”’ squawked the clown. “ But be- hold—the nightingale loveth the place of darkness!’ and straightway he began to chant in a falsetto, smacking his rump by way of accompaniment. _ AS interested rather than amused in the antics of the medieval fool, but not, of course, understanding any of the words, Eileen sat apparently forgotten among the women, she became aware of the persistence of the fierce eyes of the young man fixed upon her. The ditty ended, the clown sat up on his haunches expectantly. [From somewhere in the shadows a small bag of hassani (Moorish dollars) was thrown at his feet. The clown reeled out a list of extravagant praises of the host, and then, yapping :ike a village dog, he began to run about on all fours, beating the ground furiously with his bladder. Nearer and nearer he came to the group of nonsensical women. Then, with a howl, he sprang in the air, landed within two feet of the girl with the flaxen hair, and began to spout a fantastic list of her beauties. The girl squealed deli- ciously, and the other women giggled de- lightedly. Suddenly he struck her smartly over the head with the bladder, which brought a gale of screams and laughter. Then he pounced upon the dark girl. The third to be chosen, apparently at haphazard, was Eileen. She shrank back apprehensively from the hideous creature, and felt her blood stop 89 as a familiar voice said swiftly, imitating a lover’s whisper: ‘“Me Rabbit. Ben Ghali no like white wine. He wan’ give you him son. Un’er- stan’, huh? You-.no let him drink. You get him goat, Ben Ghali! Un’erstan’? Rabbit come get you soon. Fine! Yessir!” The bladder descended upon her head smartly, the clown yelped, and scuttled back, snatched up the dollars, and disap- peared in the darkness on all fours, yap- ping shrilly. For some moments Eileen was oblivious to her surroundings, endeavoring to digest the unexpected message. The obvious mean- ing of the warning chilled her. That was why she had been brought to this town instead of the tent again! Ransom had been aban- doned because this young savage had fallen in love with her! Ugh! That was why they wished her to dress in Moorish cos- tume, why she had been tricked into the bath; that was why she had been introduced to the harem, the place where she was de- tained to remain among her fellows! Oh! Panic nearly forced a scream from her lips. A violent desire tore at her to leap to her feet and flee. But she knew she would not have a chance. ‘“ Get his goat!’’ What did the extraordinary Rabbit mean? Make him angry, of course, so that— Who? Ben Ghali, Rabbit had said. Why—and how? She could not speak and insult him. Ah, somewhere, she recollected, she had read that the deadliest insult to an Arab is to pull his beard; hence the phrase which had originated among goatee-wearing Amer- icans. Scarcely had she arrived at this con- clusion than a hand upon her shoulder and guttural words aroused her to imminent danger. The women were pointing toward Ben Ghali, who was looking toward her. (To be concluded NEXT WEEK.) It is good to laugh: And there’s a laugh in every paragraph of “Mrs. McPhee’s Trespasser” BY GEORGE FOXHALL Aathor of ‘‘ McPhee’s Sensational Rest,’’ etc. Coming August 23 CONMUC NOOLK CO