Adventure, February 20, 1922 — page 37: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

The Seventeen Thieves of El-Kalil 35 hid in it, was more than I could guess. You could see dim ghosts that were thousand- year-old olive-trees and goblins that were limestone rocks. Little owls screamed . mockery from almost arm’s length and one or two hyenas dogged our steps snickering obscenity. The rest was black, unfathom- able night. But we came at last to a lane that led . due northward by the pole-star and Grim led the way up that, following a cart-wheel track beside a wall. And presently we emerged into a clump of pine-trees that were startling because so unexpected in that land, where men have cut for fuel whatever bears no fruit that men can eat and the goats have seen to it that nothing grows again. There were thirty or forty pines with grass beneath them, clean and well- kept. “Care to see Abraham’s Oak?” asked Grim—showman again; he could not rest until you had seen everything. “I think Ali Baba and his gang will come here before dawn; they always used to. We'll have to beat it soon, but you’ve time to see the tree. There’ll be no time afterward.” It stood within two hundred feet of us, surrounded by a stone wall and an iron railing—a veritable oak, so huge and ancient that a man’s life seemed an absurd thing as we stood beneath. Under the stars, with shadows all about, it looked vaster than by daylight, its dignity unmarred by signs of decay and only its age and hugeness to be wondered at—those:and the silence that it seemed to breathe. “They had to fence it to keep thieves away,” said Grim. ‘No, not only souvenir- sharps. The thieves of Hebron used to meet under the pines and set their fires against this oak. Abraham is supposed to have pitched his tent under this identical tree, so it must have been big then, and that’s three thousand years ago. It has been a rendezvous ever since. Ali Baba loves the spot. Come on.” We passed through a gate and up-hill to where big buildings and a tower loomed lonely against the sky, I too busy wondering about Abraham and that old tree to take any interest in modern convents. The pa- triarch®came from Ur of the Chaldees, wherever that was. What sort of tents did he have, and how many? According to Genesis he must have had a small tribe with him; what did they: look like camped } around that tree and how were os slaves _ and retainers armed? Modern happenings amuse me more when I can follow their roots back into the sub- soil of time; but that leads to brown study and hurt shins. aside along the hilltop and picked up a big stone, to thunder with it on the wooden door of a high square tower. It stood apart from the convent buildings, modern and unlovely—might have been a — belfry, for all you could tell in the dark— perhaps one of those vainglorious begin- nings the religious congregations make with thousands of yet-to-be-solicited contributors in mind. The door was opened presently by an old Russian female in a night-cap, who screamed at sight of us. She knew no Arabic—no English. Grim | beckoned the policeman and his rifle turned out to be a theme she comprehended, for she crossed herself in a quick-fire flurry and stood aside. the words were Russian—and we entered a square room dimly lighted by a night- light that burned before an ikon in a corner. It formed the whole ground-story of the tower, bedroom and living-room in one, and was chock-a-block with rubbishy furniture, but clean. | In the corner opposite the ikon was an iron stair with a hand-rail, like one of those — that stokers use to emerge by from the boiling bowels of a ship. Grim started up it, but told the policeman to stay below and keep the door shut, presumably to prevent — the old lady from communicating with her friends -eutside—for you never know in Palestine what innocents are earning money — on the side by acting as thieves’ telegraph. | I followed Grim. Story after story the iron ladder twisted on itself in pitchy blackness, until we came out at last on a flat-roof with a waist-high parapet, crossed by two ropes on which the beldame’s washing hung—not edifying as a spectacle, nor pleasant when the wind drove it in your face. There was nothing else to see there except the stars that looked almost ’ within reach. Grim leaned his back against - the parapet and proceeded to admire them. “What next?” I asked, for since the only ones I can ever identify are the dipper and — the pole-star I soon grow inattentive to — astronomy. I barked mine against a — = modern American plow, as Grim turned — Grim gave her a coin, for which __ she blessed him profusely—or so I suppose; — Pes “¥ 3 - : t P Bae SU het e, yh ae Pe Yd “an “St ; AN nb Ty Te ie » i ie Fy, ’ 7 ~ / Riles ye ft, eet ad yp ra) ta wt or Aran hid AA ee ve ry Pe ey le ory p, q ‘J vk ** (£48 eo Sy) AGS et be. mel) ee ng '> a we er ce ot ee eee. comicbook