CHAPTER III.
THE RHINOCEROS WHIP 'Where is the whip ?' Rashid cried, suddenly, turning upon me in the gateway of the khan where we had just arrived.
'Merciful Allah! It is not with me.

I must have left it in the carriage.' Rashid threw down the saddlebags, our customary luggage, which he had been carrying, and started running for his life.

The carriage had got half-way down the narrow street half-roofed with awnings.

At Rashid's fierce shout of 'Wait, O my uncle! We have left our whip!' the driver turned and glanced behind him, but, instead of stopping, lashed his horses to a gallop.

Rashid ran even faster than before.