Hah! Take us to Jerusalem! Why not ?" "Because then," Grim answered, "there would be ten-score cutthroats at large without a leader who can hold them.

One Lion can keep a bargain, but ten score jackals would ruin a country-side." Ali Higg turned that over in his mind for five full minutes, like a chess player refusing to admit that he is mated.

But there wasn't a move left to him, and Jael went closer on her knees to whisper advice in his ear.
"I agree," he said at last.

"As Allah is my witness, I agree.

Let us be friends, O Jimgrim!" Grim shook hands with him and offered him a cigarette, while Ali Baba's men outside the cave sent up a great shout of victory.
Then to Ali Higg's inexpressible delight Mahommed started to sing the Akbar song, and they all roared the chorus: _"Akbar! Akbar! Akbar Ali Higg!"_ The song put everybody in good temper, so that when Jael wrote out a letter to the bank at Grim's dictation Ali Higg affixed the seal to it without a murmur and ordered food supplied at once to all Grim's men; and we had a feast up there on the ledge outside the cave--in sight of the very spot where Amaziah, King of Israel, once hurled ten thousand of his enemies into the gorge below--that, in some respects, was the most enjoyable I ever shared.
But Grim was not the man to spoil success by lingering in what might yet turn into a trap.