is now.  And say to him, howadji, that unless he does our wish in this striking we shall slay all others whom he may behire in our place and that we shall dynamitely destroy that nice mine.  Remind him, howadji—­if perchancely he does not know of such things—­that the law is with us.  Say, moreoverly, that there be many importanceful shipments and contracts just now.  And say he will lose all if he be so bony of head as to refuse us.  Furthermore, howadji, tell him, I prythee you, that we—­”

A veritable yell from Kirby broke in on the smug instructions.  The American had recovered enough of his breath to expend a lungful of it in one profane bellow.  In a flash he visualized the whole scene at the fellaheens’ quarters—­Najib’s crazy explanation of the strike system and of the supposed immunity from punishment that would follow sabotage and other violence; the fellaheens’ duller brains gradually seizing on the idea until it had become as much a part of their mucilaginous mentality as the Koran itself; and Najib’s friendly desire that Kirby might share in the golden benefits of the new scheme.

Yes, the American grasped the whole thing at once; his knowledge of the East foretelling to him its boundless possibilities for mischief and for the ruin of the mine’s new prosperity.  He fairly strangled with the gust of wrath and impotent amaze which gripped him.

Najib smiled up at him as might a dog that had just performed some pretty new trick, or a child who has brought to its father a gift.  But the aspect of Kirby’s distorted face there in the dying firelight shocked the Syrian into a grunt of terror.  Scrambling to his feet, he sputtered quaveringly.

“Tame yourself, howadji, I enseech you!  Why are you not rejoiceful?  Will it not mean much money for you; and—­”

“You mangy brown rat!” shouted Kirby in fury.  “What in blazes have you done?  You know, as well as I do, that such an idea will never get out of those fellaheens’ skulls, once it’s really planted there.  They’ll believe every word of that wall-eyed rot you’ve been telling them!  And they’ll go on a genuine strike on the strength of it.  They’ll—­”

“Of an assuredly, howadji, they will,” assented the bewildered Najib.  “I made me very assured of that.  Four times I told it all over to them, until even poor Imbarak—­whose witfulness hath been beblown out from his brain by the breath of the Most High—­until even Imbarak understood.  But why it should enrouse you to a lionsome raging I cannot think.  I bethought you would be pleasured—­”

“Listen to me!” ordered Kirby, fighting hard for self-control and forcing himself to speak with unnatural slowness.  “You’ve done more damage than if you had dynamited the whole mine and then turned a river into the shaft.  This kind of news spreads.  In a week there won’t be a worker east of the Jordan who won’t be a strike fan.  And these people here will work the idea a step farther.  I know them.  They’ll decide that if one strike is good, two strikes are better.  And they will strike every week—­loafing between times.”