"Stick a toothbrush in your pocket.
I've got soap, but you'll have small chance to use it." "You said I can't go as a white man." "True.

We'll fix you up at Hebron.

The Arabs have scads of proverbs," he answered, lighting a cigarette with a gesture peculiar to him at times when he is using words to hide his thoughts.

"One of the best is: `Conceal thy tenets, thy treasure, and thy traveling.' "The Hebron road is not the road to Petra.

We're going to joy-ride in the wrong direction, and leave Jerusalem guessing." Five minutes later Grim and I were on the back seat of a Ford car, bowling along the Hebron road under the glorious gray walls of Jerusalem; Narayan Singh and the two brats were enjoying our dust in another car behind us.