Having seen the Sultan and having the Irade confirmed there was little else to be done in Constantinople. We were ready and even were anxious to start forward to accomplish the real end of the trip. From the beginning it had been my intention to go to El Deyr on the Euphrates and there purchase horses which I might be assured came from the Anezeh themselves. I was under the impression at that time that the Anezeh, not often coming as far north as El Deyr, would only be found in the neighborhood of Pamyra, that "Tadmor in the Wilderness" which is as old as Solomon.

          At the Pine Palace Hotel in Constantinople, we met Mr. Forbes of the firm of MacAndrews & Forbes, the largest dealers in the liquorice root in the world, which makes the exportations mainly through Alexandretta or Iskanderoon. Mr. Forbes laughed at the idea of going to the Desert at that time of the year. He declared that we would be unable to stand the heat, even in Aleppo, and that because the Bedouin wars had been so many and frequent for five years, his firm had discontinued the shipping of liquorice from points near Deyr.

          "That poor fellow is down with the fever again," he remarked, and as Sneddon lay down on the deck he added: "It will only be for a moment; he will be alright presently. Mr. Sneddon lay there groaning, but after a few moments he straightened up and read the letter. That's the way the fever takes you.

          It was a relief to get out of Alexandretta. But as soon as we came to the mountains we arrived at what seemed to be the cliff dwellers home. There was a town of some size built just as if the swallows had made it of mud, hanging from the mountains. This was the town of Baylan, the first place of safety from the fever we had reached since leaving the sea coast below.

          We were now traveling on the finest mountain road I had ever seen. It was the old ancient Roman road and the same one over which Darley's Arabian had travelled when he was taken from Aleppo in 1703. We passed on point that looked dangerous; we could look over the bank more than two hundred feet down to the jagged rocks below. And then on and on we climbed over this wonderful mountain pass. We saw small boys herding long-eared back goats; we saw the packs of many hundreds of camels stacked at the roadside. The camels were away being herded in the mountains for food. Then the night came on and we could not see anything.

          We reached Antioch at 11 o'clock (at) night. Our host was most civil considering the time of the night. That is to say, he led us through damp smelling, rocky mud hallways to our room. This was an apartment about twelve feet square. Underneath was a table where we could hear camels grumbling and donkeys trying to bray and not quite succeeding. That was enough. We made down our beds on the benches. Meantime, I looked around the walls and at some small worn holes in the mud plastering, and roughly guessed the plot. Sure enough when the lamp went out the real hostilities began. Moore fought as only a giant would, and even in his sleep he sat up and pressed the button on a small pocket electric amp, and swept the invading hordes onto the floor as fresh recruits began to tackle me. I had previously left my so-called bed for the floor. Daylight finally came, and it marked the longest and worst night I had ever put in. I dressed and got Baedeker and was not surprised at the way he describes the people of Antioch -- "The population, consisting of Greek and Syrian elements are of a restless character."

          When Moore woke up I read that sentence to him and suggested that we should probably always remember what it was that made them restless.

          ...Of course we were in Aleppo (not the Aleppo I had imagined!), but it did not seem likely that we should get much further. I began to believe that our journey was over without the accomplishment of what I thought I was so well equipped to carry out. I was utterly down in the mouth. Moore and Thompson evidently thought that something should be done to cheer me up (though they themselves were pretty melancholy) and so decided that if they could get me to some shop with an atmosphere of horse about it, I might be brought into a better frame of mind. Accordingly, we started for the shops where they made the saddles and bridles, and horse trimmings which were used in the desert. In the poorly ventilated bazaars hundreds of Bedouins crowded around to look at us. To see three strangers, the smallest of whom stood six feet one and a half inches, was a sight to them. They peered at us genteelly, and asked the interpreter if we were "Engleese." They shook their heads, as he explained that we were "Americs" and wanted to know where "Americ" was.

          While we were at the saddlery place, I told the interpreter, to ask a Bedouin (with very white teeth) if he knew anything about the Anezeh. While the translation was made to the Arab his eyes grew very expressive and round, and he said in return. "The Anezeh are within ten hours' ride of Aleppo; I am a member of one of the subtribes and have just come from them."

          We lost no time in getting into a carriage in which we drove through the narrow, dirty streets for a long way, up to a two story stone and mud house. Our cavass went inside, was gone five minutes, and returned. We were taken upstairs to an inside large room showing every sign of wealth. The furniture was spotted with inlaid pearl, and the divan, which ran all round the room, was purple plush with gold and silver ornaments. Scattered over the divan were rifles that looked ready for action. Before we had time to think that this was strange, as only the soldiers were allowed rifles, everybody else in the room stood up and we too arose. Then slowly and with a stride like that of Sir Henry Irving, a noble, elderly looking Arab came forward. Anywhere he would have attracted instant attention. He looked ike a bronze Grover Cleveand in his last years. His eyes fairly glowed with smiles as he bowed low on the magnificent silk rugs. This was Akmet Haffez, the ruling Prince of all the Desert!

          Ameene, our interpreter, now spoke, and told him why our sudden call was made and Akmet Haffez told us that Hashem Bey, the Sheikh of the Anezeh, had been his guest for ten days, but had gone the night before, back to his tribe, which was encamped at a distance of ten or twelve hours' ride.

          The dignified od gentleman then learned we were the people who had been in Antioch three nights before.

          "These then," he asked, "are the people, one of whom has an Iradé from the Sultan of Turkey, and letters from the one Great Sheikh of all the Americ tribes?"

          "Yes," he was told.

          "Then you have called on me before calling on the Governor of Aleppo and Syria. No such honor was ever paid to a Bedouin before, and if I should live to be one hundred years old, my smallest slave would honor me more for this visit... but after all you have not come here to see men. Better than that you have come to see horses, and I would be selfish if I kept you longer from seeing the greatest mare of our country -- the war mare of the Great Hashem Bey -- the mare from whose back he killed, among others, his most distinguished enemy."

          "Then you have called on me before calling on the Governor of Aleppo and Syria. No such honor was ever paid to a Bedouin before, and if I should live to be one hundred years old, my smallest slave would honor me more for this visit... but after all you have not come here to see men. Better than that you have come to see horses, and I would be selfish if I kept you longer from seeing the greatest mare of our country -- the war mare of the Great Hashem Bey -- the mare from whose back he killed, among others, his most distinguished enemy."

PHOTOGRAPHS OF *WADDUDA 30 DO NOT SHOW HER IN WHAT MUST HAVE BEEN HER

FULL BEAUTY. HER DESCRIPTION BY GEORE FORD MORRIS, ONE OF AMERICA'S

AL-TIME GREAT EQUINE ARTISTS, PROBABY GIVES HER APPEARANCE AND ESSENCE

MORE THAN ANY PICTURE: "YOU GO TO THE STABLES AND ... LOOK INTO THE BOX AND

SEE THE WAR MARE OF SHEIKH HASHEM BEY WITH SPEAR SCARES ADORNING HER

NECK AND SIDES AND PRAYERS TO ALLAH FROM DIFFERENT TRIBES HANGING FROM

SILKEN CORDS AROUND HER NECK. SHE IS SMALL, CHESTNUT IN COLOR, BONE LIKE

FLINT, SLENDER, HIGH CARRIED TAIL, WIDE BULGING JIBBA (FOREHEAD), AND FULL

, PROMINENT EYES, DAVENPORT TELLS YOU THAT EVER SINCE SHE WAS FIRST

SADDLED WAS THAT SADDLE REMOVED UNTIL SHE PASSED INTO FOREIGN HANDS AND

THAT SHE STOOD READY DAY AND NIGHT FOR THE SHEIKH TO LEAP TO HER BACK AND

RIDE INTO BATTLE, ON WILD FORAY, OR IN SWIFT FIGHT. THE SLAVE BOY CARESSES

HER; HER PECULIAR WRINKED NOSTRILS AND DELICATE MUZZE QUIVER AND MOVE

LIKE A FAWN'S. YOU DO NOT SEE THE STRAW UNDER HER FEET NOR THE BOARDS OF

THE STABLE BEHIND HER, BUT THE HOT DESERT, THE FLOWING ROBES OF THE

BEDOUINS AND THE TENTS OF THOSE WHO WORSHIP ALLAH SPREAD OUT ON THE

SANDS BEFORE YOU." IN BIT & SPUR, 4/15/07

          (Akmet Haffez) stopped and extended his open hand as if to grasp mine. As I advanced to take his hand, his other gracefully warded me back. All this time the old Sheikh was taking in an emotional voice to the interpreter. I was fearful for the moment that I had offended him in some way, though I could hardly think how. I looked upon Ameene to explain. I saw the interpreter's face grow full of astonishment and wonder, and turning to me he said:

          "It appears that we have made a dipomatic blunder in calling on this man before we have called on the Governor, and he feels so deeply affected by it, that he wants you to take his hand, but not unless you can accept the great war mar as his present to you, with the Bedouin boy that now holds her. Her name is to remain the same, Wadduda. He hopes that when you speak the name it will bear living witness of his love to you and that the gift and its acceptance will be the forming of a friendship and later of a brotherhood that will never end."

          So I accepted the mare and the hand of brotherhood and the old Bedouin ruler seemed very happy. He told me that no money could buy the blue beads from the mare's tail, and that, for the moment at least, seemed true.

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

Part VI

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