As I advanced, some twenty or thirty of
the most uncouth-looking fellows imaginable came forward to meet
me. In their appearance they showed nothing of the Bedouin blood;
they were of many colours, from dingy brown to jet black, and some
of these last had much of the negro look about them. They were
tall, powerful fellows, but awfully ugly. They wore nothing but
the Arab shirts, confined at the waist by leathern belts.
I advanced to the gap left in the fence, and at once alighted from
my horse. The chief greeted me after his fashion by alternately
touching first my hand and then his own forehead, as if he were
conveying the virtue of the touch like a spark of electricity.
Presently I found myself seated upon a sheepskin, which was spread
for me under the sacred shade of Arabian canvas. The tent was of a
long, narrow, oblong form, and contained a quantity of men, women,
and children so closely huddled together, that there was scarcely
one of them who was not in actual contact with his neighbour. The
moment I had taken my seat the chief repeated his salutations in
the most enthusiastic manner, and then the people having gathered
densely about me, got hold of my unresisting hand and passed it
round like a claret jug for the benefit of every body.
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