"Him and Me--Same Father!" Every detail of a man's bearing is watched carefully in that land.

Every action has its value.

The etiquette of the desert is more strict, and more dangerous to neglect, than that of palaces, although it is simpler and more to the point, being based on the instinct of self-preservation.
The Arabs who approached us, having ridden straight into a trap for all they knew, for they had expected friends and found strangers, were even more than usually observant of formality.
They were fierce, fine-looking fellows, possessed of that dignity that only warfare with the desert breeds, and they saluted Grim with the punctilio of men who know the meaning of a fight to him who doubtless understands it too.

A very different matter, that, to raising your Stetson on Broadway, with two cops on the corner and the Stars and Stripes floating from the hotel roof.

They eyed Grim the while in the same sort of way that men who might be charged with trespass look at the game warden, waiting for him to speak first.
_"Allah ysabbak bilkhair!"_ he rolled out at last.
_"Allah y'a fik, ya Ali Higg!"_ they answered one after the other.
And then the oldest of them--a black-bearded stalwart with extremely aquiline nose and dark-brown eyes that fairly gleamed from under the linen head-dress, took on himself the role of spokesman.
"O Ali Higg! May Allah give you peace!" "And to you peace!" Grim answered.
I could not see Grim's face, of course, since I stood behind him, but I did not detect the least movement of surprise or nervousness.