A RAIDED VILLAGE
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their presence we entrust to the son of the Sheikh, they receive with gratitude, but without effusion. As has already been said, they have not asked for bakshîsh, and seemed surprised that strangers should give without being asked. They accompany us, the same placid, listless, little crowd, to the landing-place, and tranquilly look on at our re-embarkation and departure. Perhaps they will watch the steamer till its smoke disappears from view, but then they will go back to their everlasting round of toil and rest and toil again—good human bullocks, turning the sakkiyeh of life as untiringly and resignedly as their fathers and their fathers' fathers up to a past that loses itself in the mists of legend.
