Summary

Talbot Mundy The Lion of Petra — Chapter 8 (1922)

At the moment I suspected that Grim was one of those officers who are splendid at intelligence work and at playing a lone hand, but less than ordinary in the field; Ali Baba looked like the man of action.
Why, with all that brave old man’s ability to swing and spur his gang in absolute control, had not the lot of us burst through the circling enemy and made a bolt for it? That was what I would have done.
But suddenly Grim turned and pushed the muzzle of his pistol into Ayisha’s face as she leaned out of the shibriyah to watch.
Source: Wikisource

Talbot Mundy The Lion of Petra — Chapter 8 (1922)

I say that, for all your brave words, this Ali Higg who rides ahead of us can make you slay me for a word of praise from him.”
“You mean, beloved, you could make me slay him for a word of praise from you!” the Sikh lied glibly.
“But I might not want him slain.”
“Have him made into a cripple then—a ruin of a man, for daring to displease you!”
“But he pleases me!”
“Aha! I am jealous! By the beard of the Prophet, Ayisha, beware of my jealousy! I am a man of few words but sudden deeds! Is there a man who stands in my way? May Allah show compassion on him, for he is like to need it!”
Source: Wikisource

Talbot Mundy The Lion of Petra — Chapter 8 (1922)

Every single rifle down the length of the caravan, including mine, was unslung in a second and the click of the sliding bolts was as business-like as if we had been a squad on the parade-ground. Narayan Singh, rifle in hand, sprang on to Ayisha’s little Bishareen, and she jumped into the shibriyah, like a pair doing stunts at the circus.
So far good. But the rest was amateurish. We milled badly. Grim away in front had halted to let the line close, and we swarmed around him like a herd of steers that smell wolves, and nobody seemed to know which way to look, or what to do next.
Source: Wikisource

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