I observed the chief butcher enter the bathing house alone, while his followers waited at the gate:  upon which I went to a slaughter-house, poured over my back the blood of a sheep, dabbed it with plaisters of cotton, and leaning on a crutch, as if in agony of pain, repaired to the bath.  At first the butchers refused me admittance, saying their chief was within; but on my entreating their compassion for my miserable condition, they at length permitted me to enter.  Passing through the different rooms, I came to the bath, in which I found the unfortunate chief washing his scars.  I pulled out my whip, and having said to him, “Shekh, this is the tail of my calf!” flogged him again so severely that he fainted; after which I made my escape by another entrance to the hummaum, which opened into a different street.

The butchers growing impatient at the long stay of their chief in the bath, at length entered, and found him in extreme agony.  He informed them of this second revenge of the owner of the calf, and requested that he would take him into the country, pitch a tent for his reception, and remain to guard him till he should be cured of his wounds.  They did so; but I watched their motions, and disguising myself, repaired in the evening towards the tent.  Here I found a Bedouin Arab, whom I bribed with a piece of gold to cry out, “I am the owner of the calf, and will have the life of your chief!” cautioning him at the same time, after he had so exclaimed, to make his escape as quickly as possible from the butchers, who would pursue him.  “I shall not heed them,” replied he, “though they may be mounted on the fleetest coursers.”

Having said this, the Bedouin went up close to the tents, bawling out vociferously, as I had direfted him:  upon which all the butchers started up and pursued him, but in vain, to a great distance.  I then entered the tent in which the chief was reposing alone, and pulling out my whip, once more flogged him till he roared with agony.  When I was tired I bundled up such articles as I could lay my hands on; and returning home, presented them to my mother, saying, “Here is the balance of the price of our calf.”

The butchers having attempted to overtake the Bedouin, till they were wearied with running, but in vain, returned to their chief, whom they found in a fainting fit from the pain of his wounds.  Having sprinkled water on his face, they recovered him so far that he was able to inform them of what had happened; and to request them to convey him once more to his own house, to give out that he was dead of his wounds, and make a mock funeral; when, possibly, the owner of the calf, believing him departed this life, might cease to torment him.