I tell you that I have at my
command three hundred brave men armed with guns who worship Allah
and thirst for the blood of Christian dogs. With these I will
follow, and if you fall into my hands alive, you shall learn what
it is to die by fire or pinned over ant-heaps in the sun. Let us
see if your English man-of-war will help you then, or your false
God either. Misfortune go with you, white-skinned robbers of
honest men!"
This pleasing epistle was unsigned, but its anonymous author was not
hard to identify. I showed it to Stephen who was so infuriated at its
contents that he managed to dab some ammonia with which he was
treating his mosquito bites into his eye. When at length the pain was
soothed by bathing, we concocted this answer:
"Murderer, known among men as Hassan-ben-Mohammed--Truly we sinned
in not hanging you when you were in our power. Oh! wolf who grows
fat upon the blood of the innocent, this is a fault that we shall
not commit again. Your death is near to you and we believe at our
hands.
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