Durch die Wüste

Halef was a peculiar little fellow. He was so small that he barely reached my armpits, and so gaunt and thin that one might have claimed he had spent a full decade pressed between the sheets of a herbarium. His little face was completely hidden under a turban that measured three full feet in diameter, and his once white burnous, which now shimmered in all sorts of shades of grease and dirt, had certainly been made for a much larger man.