# The Plutocrat (Tarkington)/Chapter 21

THE distant cloud of dust containing Tinker's caravan, Tinker himself, his Austrian or Polish friends, Jean Edouard Le Seyeux, and others, crossed the dry bed of the Desert river, where stands the white-domed tomb of the marabout, and, making its way into Biskra, disappeared among the mud walls and palm trees of an Arab outskirt. But although temporarily invisible from the tower, its progress could still be followed by the increasing uproar travelling with it. A confusion of shrill voices, cat-like oboe pipings and the thumping of tom-toms were commingled upon the air; and down the street before the hotel ran the wicked-eyed sellers of knives, the trinket vendors, beggars, pedlars, and flying groups of brown children in tatters, hurrying passionately toward the commotion; blind men were dragged by at a run.
Then, at a corner below the hotel, the caravan turned into view, and, with little half-naked brown boys and black boys turning somersaults in the dust ​before it, swung barbarically up the broad white road. In nucleus it consisted of four camels of majestic breed, loftier than other camels and imperially conscious that they were. They were attended by smaller camels, upon which sat white-robed servants, and by brown men on Arabian coursers, by hairy old men on hairier donkeys, by musicians, clamorous pedlars and beggars, by goats, dogs, poultry, and the general vociferous rabble.
Capering fantastically before the procession and beating a tom-tom, a magnificently robust gray-bearded negro conjuror roared lunatic jocosities and caught tossed coins between his teeth;—he wore a headdress three feet high of yellow skin flashing with little mirrors; his skirt of jackals' skins leaped to his dancing, and, as he danced, he continually made convulsive obeisance to the potentate from afar, whom his prancing heralded and hoped to placate. This was Tinker, bareheaded, with a scarlet burnous over his shoulders and his trousers rucked up to his knees, riding at the head of his caravan high upon a gigantic white camel. He had been to Sidi Okba, where he had apparently bought everything that was for sale; silver-spangled shawls and scarves hung from the camels: great brass platters were borne upon them ​like shields; attendants carried bundles of red leather, laces, and outrageous weapons.
Up and down the street groups of tourists were standing to stare; British, wearing pith helmets, monocles, and puttees; French in white flannels and straw hats; open-mouthed Americans; mounted French officers in scarlet and blue drew rein; and from the doorway of the hotel came the landlord, the concierge, porters, waiters, immaculate Arab guides in white and brown, all deferential and hoping to be useful.
"Isn't it perfectly awful!" Mrs. Tinker said to her friend—and yet, though she meant what she said, there was somewhere at the bottom of her voice an elusive and just detectable little note of humorous pride. "I'll certainly let him know what I think of him for making such a spectacle of himself! The idea of his wearing one of those red things like that! He just can't help buying 'em wherever he sees 'em; and the trouble is, he hasn't any self-consciousness, Mrs. Shuler. If he felt chilly he'd put it on; he hasn't the slightest regard for appearances, because he honestly never thinks about 'em. Probably he's lost his hat, and I do wish he'd pull his trousers down! He hasn't ​the slightest idea how ridiculous he looks—and he wouldn't care if he had."
Ridiculous was how he looked to the burning eyes of the young man on the opposite side of the tower gallery. That is, at first Ogle thought him ridiculous; and injured vanity was not assuaged by the thought. It was to lay siege, then, to this buffoon, that Mme. Aurélie Momoro had travelled the long way from Algiers, dragging with her a spiritless serf whose hand or shoulder she patted now and then as a reward for paying the tavern bills! From her window somewhere below she was probably looking out now, and not one whit turned aside from her purpose to captivate that absurdity upon a white camel; she would care no more how ridiculous he was than she had cared how chivalrous and delicate the gulled serf had been with her!
But, continuing to look down upon the caravan, as it slowly swung up the street, drawing nearer, something about it daunted the sore spirit of the watcher on the tower. Against his will, he perceived a kind of barbaric stateliness, and lost his conviction that either the procession or its master was ridiculous. Moreover, he recognized the young ​"Austrian or Polish" couple Mrs. Tinker had mentioned as members of this expedition. In the thin and rosy light of late sunset, riding well, no more incommoded by the swaying of his huge beast than he had been by that of the "Duumvir," Tinker came up the street at Biskra with the Princess of Fühlderstein upon his right hand, Orthe the Eighteenth upon his left, and the mob rioting hopefully about him as he laughed and scattered down silver coins among them.
There was something, then, not so ridiculous as formidable about the big, broad-faced Midlander; and the playwright felt the hovering of a Punic resemblance. For thus, with boys and black conjurors tumbling before him, with the rulers of States riding beside him, with tom-toms beating, and the rabble clamouring, some great scarlet-robed Carthaginian, master of six thousand slaves at home, might have ridden in from the Desert two thousand years ago. In fact, the disgruntled observer was able to perceive a further Punic resemblance, more painful: a great Carthaginian Barca—Hamilcar or his gorgeous son Hannibal—thus riding in from the Desert so long ago, might very well have encountered here a tall Beauty of the Gauls, who had travelled down from the Mediterranean seeking him everywhere and at last ​waiting at this oasis, sure of charming and enslaving him. Biskra might have strange surprises for industrial princes, whether of seagirt Carthage or a boosters' town on the Midland prairie.
"I'd just like to know what he's got to say for himself!" Mrs. Tinker exclaimed, as the caravan stopped before the hotel and her husband and his guests were assisted to descend. "Let's go down and see, Mrs. Shuler. I only hope he's tired enough to lie down awhile for a nap before dinner."
Her hope was a vain one; for they were met at the base of the tower by Tinker, divested of his burnous, supplied with a hat and in lively spirits. He came briskly out upon the roof arm-in-arm with a middle-aged companion of his own sex and similar nativity. "Look here, Mamma!" he shouted. "Mr. Shuler saw what I've got for you downstairs, and he says his wife's goin' to be mighty jealous. I had 'em carried to your room for you; and you and Baby'll find 'em laid out on your bed, I expect. You might pick out a shawl for Mrs. Shuler while you're at it. Anyhow, you better go look at 'em."
"There'll be time enough for that by-and-by," his wife returned severely. "We came up here to see the sunset and I certainly don't want any more shawls ​and neither does Libby; maybe we can coax Mrs. Shuler to accept 'em all! What have you got to say for yourself—behaving like a circus clown before the whole place like that! And, by the way"—here her tone became more emphatic—"I thought you told me that young lady with the light hair was a bride."
"She is. They're a bride and groom on their wedding trip; they told me so."
"Then why didn't you let 'em ride next to each other, the way honeymoon couples like to? Why'd you have to go and push your old camel in between 'em? So you could talk to the bride better? What are their names?"
"I don't know," Tinker answered, and he rubbed his head. "That's been botherin' me all day. I asked him about fifteen times; but it was so foreign sounding, and he'd always sort of smother it when he said it, at last I gave up tryin' to get it. Mighty nice young couple, though."
"Yes," Mrs. Tinker said with some tartness, "I noticed you seemed to think so—especially the bride."
Mr. Shuler laughed waggishly. "That's right, Mrs. Tinker, give it to him! You'll have to keep your eye on him. I met Charlie Wackstle in Naples ​as my wife and I were coming down here, and he told me quite a good deal about Mr. Tinker's capers on the steamer. You'll have to look out for him!"
Tinker protested with an affectation of jocosity, under which a keener ear than Mr. Shuler's might have detected a little genuine alarm: "Now, that'll be enough, Mr. Shuler. Our friend Wackstle's a splendid man—just splendid in every way—except he's never spoken a word of truth since he was born. Listen! When that Wackstle came into the smoking-room and said it was a nice bright day outside, everybody there would send for their rain-coats. Listen! I've always believed George Washington was dead, but if Charlie Wackstle said he was, I'd telegraph to Mount Vernon and tell George I was comin' to visit him! Listen! If Charlie Wackstle ever told the truth in his life——" He paused. An Arab servant stood before him, offering him a small white envelope. "What's that? For me? I don't know anybody here." However, he accepted the missive and opened it.
Mr. Shuler cackled gayly. "Billy-dues already! It's certainly a little suspicious how heavy he puts it on about Wackstle being such a prevaricator. You'll have to keep your eye on him, Mrs. Tinker!"
​"Indeed I know that," she said. "Who on earth would be writing to you in a place like this, Earl?"
He put the note in his pocket, laughing evasively. "Oh, it's what Mr. Shuler said," he returned. "It's a billy-doo. I can't keep 'em away from me!"
She frowned. "I asked you who's it from."
"Now, Honey!" Then he laughed louder. "I believe you think it's from that little, light-haired bride. Well, on my word, it's not;—as a matter of fact, it's about something entirely different."
"Well, what?"
"Maybe I'll tell you some day, maybe not, Mamma." He became fondly taunting, as if humouring Mr. Shuler's joke. "Anyhow I got to go 'tend to something."
With that he moved toward the stairway to descend; but she detained him. "What do you have to——"
"Oh, it's nothing, only I got to look after it myself. See you downstairs pretty soon."
"But I want to know——" She checked herself and stood looking after him as he disappeared. Then she turned to her companions. "I know it's that note," she said.
"You'll have to keep your eye on him," Mr. ​Shuler repeated, unable to part with this humorous device. "Somebody's probably trying to get him away from you, Mrs. Tinker."
"Somebody's probably trying to get him away from some money. Somebody's always after him for that!"
"Well, he's still a pretty good-looking man, Mrs. Tinker. You'll have to keep your eyes open."
"Indeed, I'll do that!" she said; and this, for a time, was the last heard from her by the young man upon the gallery overhead. She moved away with her friends to occupy some chairs at a distance from the tower, and only the indistinguishable murmur of their talk was audible.