There in the shadow of a solitary group of palm trees beside a desert well, I noticed a sorrel Bedouin mare, a skeleton only, emaciated from weeks of hard riding and hunger. A deep red gash in her shoulder indicated that she had been in a raid just recently. The little mare stood silently gazing at her image, which was reflected perfectly as in a mirror, from a splash of water on the ground. A flock of black goats had watered at the brackish pool and the shepherds were driving the animals off into the hills.

With contemplative eyes, the little mare regarded her sad picture and felt not all inclined to drink from the water beneath her feet. A small Negro boy approached with a skin of camels' milk. At once the mare threw her head up and whinnied to the child who came forward and let her dip her nose into the leather bag and swallow the nourishing sustenance.

He was still rubbing his eyes when he came out and invited me to accept his hospitality.

Sheykh Bseys was an independent and freedom loving man. He was rich in smiles, kind words and neighborly love, though he had lost his wife, his wealth, his slaves. Only a little colored boy was left to attend to his handful of camels and a mare. This was the child and the mare I had seen at the well. The boy had just returned with his leather bag of fresh camel's milk. Bseys took the goatskin from the boy's hand and offered me a drink.

After that the slave boy squatted in the pit of the coffee hearth, perspiring from the heat of the glowing embers--hard camel droppings which burned with furious intensity and threw off as much heat as good coals in a furnace. The boy (he called his master "uncle") roasted coffee, pounded his pellet in the mortar, mixed bitter cardamon seed into it and threw the precious powder upon boiling old coffee water. After this he changed the black brew to three different pots, each one in turn boiling over. Finally the first draught was poured out into a small earthenware cup which he handed to his "uncle," who in turn offered it to me. Other guests, who had come silently to squat down in a circle received their share of coffee too.

I asked him about his sorrel mare and her picture in the pool which she had regarded with such contemplating eyes.

From his great soul he poured out a song-a poem-of a beloved mare which he had lost, the grand-dam of the sorrel mare I had inquired about.

Face of pale silver
speak to me of the path my war mare took.
The path of purple, sprinkled with dew of death
Thaklah mated to the strength of thy youth
Watering by the pool above the thundercloud
And lying down beside the shadow of the great rock
In the pasture of camomile, smelling of milk.
Dream in thy sleep of the lance I bore,
Of the strong limbs thou has felt on thy shoulders.
Guiding thee into the teeth of the raiders.
Their shouting and the death of their hoofs
The clash of steel upon hearts of steel,
The breaking of wounds, the voice of the pulse
Choking thy ears, thy heart, thy eyes,
When thy knees gave way and the thunder of thy feet had died
And the light of thine eyes faded under the shadow of my hands.
When I drew my legs from under thy weight
And my dagger bit the strand of thy sacred hair
To say farewell to the friend of my youth,
The enriching one, the one of Light,
The one of the stars, the companion of muluks.
Pastures of the moon, keep my Beloved,
Keep the Joyful, the Playful, the Brave.
Voice of the Earth, and Song of the Stars
Unite in my heart and carry its echo
Through the voiceless night, the worsted abode of age,
Until I find Thaklah, resting in the shadow of
The rage of the old woman shall not reach thee,
Thou shalt not be smitten again by fire or steel,
Until I come to bend low before thee
And lift thy hoof upon the crown of my head,
Thou glorious one in the pastures of heaven,
Thaklah of old and forever young as white milk in the pool.

Bseys - in swaying rhythm and harmony - had sung with passionate love of his war mare which he had lost against the Amarat in a raid of seven hundred miles away from his home pastures. Thaklah was now on the moon, according to their ancient Bedouin faith (the "days-of-ignorance," as they are called - the pre-Mohammadan period). All Bedouins of inner Arabia still believe that the moon is a strong youth and there are to be found cool, but sunny pastures with thunderclouds in the sky and rain pools on the ground and rocks which provide shade. Thaklah had been killed by a thrust of a steel lance and after Bseys had freed himself from under her he had cut with his dagger the sacred strand of hair from the forelock and kept it as his most precious memory of her.

"I have three granddaughters of Thaklah,"Bseys told me. "Two of them are pasturing to the north this summer and the other one thou hast seen beside the well, but if thou wilt come again we shall ride together on Thaklah's granddaughters and hunt ostriches on the plains of el-Hauj (the plains along the edge of the red sand desert). If thou art content to live on a bowl of sour milk, a mouthful of desert bread, a clump of dried dates and occasionally some wild game, venison or gazelle..."

"And a stanza from thee," I added.

I had to say good night to Bseys. The silent moon, the strong, healthy youth of the heavens, rose beyond Jabal Tubayk like a great, flaming fire over the desert. Soon he swam into the dark ocean of the night, a beautiful ship of light, detached from the earth, and in his wake a rain of stars.

THE END

Raswan's Mail

SECRETARIAL HELP being what it is today (practically non-existent) answering his fan mail poses quite a problem for Carl R. Raswan, whose articles on Arabians are a regular feature of the WESTERN HORSEMAN. Some intimation of the extent of his problem is contained in a letter to us which states: "An average month brings me at least 100 inquires from readers, but in October and November, 1943, I received (and answered) over 600. I included well over 400 color-chart pedigrees in my last year's outgoing mail as a personal reward to owners and breeders of Arabian horses who desired information as to the strains and ancestors of their brood mares, stud horses and new-born foals."

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