We followed him as he rode slowly down towards the scene of strife.

When we arrived, the Frank, after laying about him vainly with his riding-whip, had drawn out a revolver.

He was being stoned.

His muleteers had fled to a safe distance.

In another minute, as it seemed, he would have shot some person, when nothing under Allah could have saved his life.
Suleyman cried out in English: 'Don't you be a fool, sir! Don't you fire!' The Frank looked round in our direction, with an angry face; but Suleyman bestowed no further thought on him.