Lawrence Of Arabia Page #2

Navy signal, sir. The convoy will be

in Port Said tomorrow night.

-Is that certain?

-Yes, sir.

There doesn't seem

to be any artillery, sir.

But there must be artillery!

Sir, this is something

of an expedition.

He has to get to Yenbo, find a guide,

find the Arabs and then get back.

He can't do that

in six weeks.

-Two months, then.

-Three.

All right, three. Now, will you

let me do some work, Mr. Dryden?

Thank you, sir.

I'd like to say, sir,

that I am grateful for this.

Shut up and get out.

Sir?

How can I fight a bloody war

without bloody artillery?

How did you do it?

You might better ask

why I bothered to.

-Because I'm the man for the job.

-I just wonder about that.

Of course I'm the man for job.

What is the job, by the way?

Find Prince Feisal.

Good. And when I've found him?

Find out what kind of man he is.

Find out what his intentions are.

I don't mean his immediate intentions.

That is Colonel Brighton's

business, not yours.

I mean, his intentions

in Arabia altogether.

Oh.

That's new.

Where are they now?

Anywhere within

They're Hashemite Bedouins.

They can cross 60 miles

of desert in a day.

Oh, thanks, Dryden.

This is going to be fun.

Lawrence, only two kinds of

creature get fun in the desert:

Bedouins and gods, and you're

neither. Take it from me.

For ordinary men,

it's a burning, fiery furnace.

No, Dryden.

It's going to be fun.

It is recognized that you

have a funny sense of fun.

Here you may drink.

One cup.

You do not drink?

No.

I'll drink when you do.

I am Bedu.

Truly, now, you are

a British officer?

Yes.

From Cairo?

Yes.

-You did not ride from Cairo?

-No.

Thank heaven. It's 900 miles.

I came by boat.

And before?

From Britain?

Yes.

Truly?

From Oxfordshire.

Is that a desert country?

No. A fat country. Fat people.

You are not fat?

No.

I'm different.

Here...

take it.

First I take you to Lord Feisal,

then you give it to me.

Take it now.

Bedu food.

Good.

More?

-Bedu.

-Where?

From here to Lord Feisal's camp

is Harith country.

Yes, I know.

-I am not Harith.

-No.

Hazimi, of the Beni Salem.

Ah...

Put the right foot in tight.

Lock it with your left foot.

Then, when you are

ready to go,

hit her on the shoulder

and say, "Hut-hut-hut."

Hut-hut-hut!

Ah.

Today will be difficult,

but tomorrow, good riding.

I think we reach Masturah

Well tomorrow. Yes.

And from Masturah Well to Lord

Feisal's camp, one day more.

Now!

Good?

It's all right.

This is a Harith well.

The Harith are a dirty people.

Turks?

Bedu.

Who is he?

Tafas!

He is dead.

Yes.

Why?

This is my well.

I have drunk from it.

You are welcome.

He was my friend.

-That?

-Yes, that.

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