side of his lungs and had embedded itself somewhere beneath the shoulder blade. Quickly tying up his wound, I promised the ḳâjmaḳâm to bring the necessary medicines for the wounded man from my baggage, but it was not possible to leave the Government building, because firing could be heard everywhere in the settlement. After about an hour the disturbance abated somewhat, and two gendarmes brought me a horse and accompanied me by the shortest road from the settlement to the railway station. From them I learnt that neither the native population nor the Bedouins had revolted, but the gendarmes and soldiers had begun to fire at each other.
I returned with the medicines to Maʻân and went to the severely wounded gendarme in his quarters. While he was being moved his bandage had slipped down, the wound had begun to bleed profusely again, and it was certain that he would not live till midnight. His friends overwhelmed me with questions as to whether I thought he would recover and, gnashing their teeth, vowed vengeance upon the soldiers, if he died.
Seeing that at Maʻân and in the surrounding area everything was being prepared for a revolt, I proposed to return to Damascus. Rifʻat and Tûmân were much pleased with my decision and said that it had brought them instant relief. Šerîf and Ismaʻîn, who again visited us, were to accompany the camels along the railway line as far as Damascus, while we intended to take all the baggage with us by rail.
On Tuesday, July 12, 1910, we loaded the baggage into a cattle truck, sat down beside it, and during the journey drew sketches of the country around the railway. We reached Damascus without any mishap. The wâli excused himself for having sent to Maʻân and Tebûk orders which were so unfavorable to me but said that it had been done in consequence of a direct order from Constantinople. He himself, likewise alarmed about a revolt not only in the environs of Maʻân but also in the Ḥawrân, asked me to act as intermediary between him and my friend, Prince an-Nûri eben Šaʻlân.
