He took the bowl in both hands, muttered a blessing, and drank deep, swallowing about half the stuff before he noticed its strange flavor.

Then he flung the priceless bowl away from him, smashing it to atoms, and picked up his rifle to take an aim at Ayisha.
"By Allah, the bint* has poisoned me!" -- ------- * Literally girl; about as respectful as the word "skirt" would be if used of one's wife.
-- ------- She screamed and ran.

He fired, but she was already past the corner, and the bullet grazed the rock.

Moreover, croton oil is a drastic cathartic, and waits on no man's convenience.

He dropped the rifle, groaned--and I would rather not set down quite all the rest.
Sufficient that it gave Narayan Singh and me our opportunity.