I looked forward, with some impatience, to Malak's return, for Kamoo's request for the loan of a knife from one of the bystanders was met with an indignant refusal, accompanied by murmuring and unmistakable expressions of hostility.

We were well armed certainly, but were only ten men against over a hundred.
Our camping-place was wild and picturesque, and, had it not been for the uncomfortable sensation of not quite knowing what would happen next, our stay at Gwarjak would have been pleasant enough.

Even Gerome was depressed and anxious, and the Beila men and escort ill at ease.

I was sorely tempted more than once to accede to Kamoo's request, strike tents and move on to Gajjar, the next village, but was restrained by the thought that such a proceeding would not only be undignified, but a source of satisfaction to my _bete noire_, Malak.
[Illustration: MALAK] After a prolonged absence of four or five hours, the latter returned, together with his Wazir and about a dozen followers.

A more cut-throat looking set of ruffians I have seldom seen.