Chapter 8 | Yussuf the Guide | Yussuf the Guide

At breakfast-time the next morning the landlord came and announced that Yussuf was in waiting. A few minutes later he ushered in a rather plain-looking, deeply-bronzed, middle-aged man, who, at the first glance, seemed to have nothing whatever to recommend him. As a nation his people are good-looking and dignified. Yussuf was rather ill-looking and decidedly undignified. He did not seem muscular, or active, or clever, or agreeable, or to have good eyes. He was not even well dressed. But upon further examination there was a hardened wiry look about the man, and a stern determined appearance in the lines of his countenance, while the eyes that did not seem to be good, so sunken were they beneath his brow, and so deeply shaded, were evidently keen and piercing. They seemed to flash as they met those of the old lawyer, to look defiant as they encountered the professor’s searching gaze, and then to soften as they were turned upon Lawrence, as he lay back in his chair rather exhausted by the heat.

A few questions were asked on either side, the newcomer speaking very good English, and also grasping the professor’s Arabic at once. In fact, it appeared evident that he was about to decline to accompany the party; but the words spoken sonorously by the professor seemed to make him hesitate, as if the fact of one of the party speaking the familiar tongue gratified him, but still he hesitated.

Just then, he hardly knew why, but attracted by the eyes of the Turk, which were fixed upon him gravely, and in a half-pitying manner, Lawrence rose and approached.

“I hope you will go with us,” he said quickly.

Yussuf took his hand and held it, gazing in the lad’s face earnestly, as a pleasant smile illumined his own.

“You are weak and ill,” he said softly. “The wind that blows in the mountains will make you strong.”

Then turning slowly to the others he saluted them gravely.

“Effendis,” he said, “I am thy servant. Allah be with us in all our journeyings to and fro. I will go.”

“I am glad!” cried Lawrence.

“And so am I,” said the professor, hesitating for a moment, and then holding out his hand, which Yussuf took respectfully, held for a moment, and then turned to Mr Burne.

“Oh, all right, shake hands,” said the latter, “if it’s the custom of the country; and now about terms.”

“Leave me to settle that with Yussuf,” said the landlord hastily, and he and the Muslim left the room.

“Seems queer to begin by being inspected, and then shaking hands with the servant we engage, eh, professor?” said Mr Burne.

“The man is to be more than servant,” replied Mr Preston; “he is to be our guide and companion for months. He repelled me at first, but directly he spoke in that soft deep voice there seemed to me to be truth in every accent. He is a gentleman at heart, and I believe we have found a pearl. What do you say, Lawrence?”

“He made me like him directly he looked in my eyes, and I am very glad he is going.”

“I repeat my words,” said the professor.

“Well, I mustn’t quarrel, I suppose. My back’s too bad; so I throw in my lot with you, and say I am glad, and good luck to us.”

“Amen,” said the professor gravely; “but I like our guide’s way of wishing success the better of the two.”