think they were greatly averse to using them. However, there was no retreating, so he inquired whether they were Ababdé, from Sheikh Ammor, and if so, how was the Nimmer, and where was Ibrahim. Upon their acknowledging that they were Ababdé, he gave them the salaam; but, without returning it, one of them demanded who he was. "Tell me first," replied Bruce, "who is this you have before you?"—"He is an Arab, our enemy," said they, "guilty of our blood."—"He is my servant," replied the traveller; "a Howadat, whose tribe lives in peace at the gates of Cairo!—but where is Ibrahim, your sheikh's son?"—"Ibrahim is at our head, he commands us here; but who are you?"—"Come with me, and show me Ibrahim, and you shall see!" replied Bruce.
They had already thrown a rope about the neck of their prisoner, who, though nearly strangled, conjured Bruce not to leave him; but the latter, observing a spear thrust up through the cloth of one of the tents, the mark of sovereignty, hastened towards it, and saw Ibrahim and one of his brothers at the door. He had scarcely descended, and taken hold of the pillar of the tent, exclaiming Fiar duc, "I am under your protection," when they both recognised him, and said, "What, are you Yagoube, our physician and friend?"—"Let me ask you," replied Bruce, "if you are the Ababdé of Sheikh Ammor, who cursed yourselves and your children if ever you lifted a hand against me or mine, in the desert or in the ploughed field? If you have repented of that oath, or sworn falsely on purpose to deceive me, here I am come to you in the desert."—"What is the matter?" said Ibrahim; "we are the Ababdé of Sheikh Ammor—there are no other—and we still say, 'Cursed be he, whether our father or children, who lifts his hand against you, in the desert or in the ploughed field!'"—"Then," replied Bruce, "you are all accursed, for a number
