As I was still hearing of this sad end, and cursing with him the traitor Beidawi brothers, there was a stir about the door, and Abd el Kerim broke through the slaves, swung up to the dais, kissed Feisal’s head-rope in salutation, and sat down beside us. Feisal with a gasping stare at him said, “How?” and Abd el Kerim explained their dismay at the sudden flight of Feisal, and how he with his brother and their gallant men had fought the Turks for the whole night, alone, without artillery, till the palm-groves became untenable and they too had been driven through Wadi Agida. His brother, with half the manhood of the tribe, was just entering the gate. The others had fallen back up Wadi Yenbo for water.

“And why did you retire to the campground behind us during the battle?” asked Feisal. “Only to make ourselves a cup of coffee,” said Abd el Kerim. “We had fought from sunrise and it was dusk: we were very tired and thirsty.” Feisal and I lay back and laughed: then we went to see what could be done to save the town.