and it is
covered with millions of infinitesimal flowers, blue and purple and
yellow and white, like tiny pansies run wild.

The four tents, each circular and about fifteen feet in diameter, are
arranged in a crescent. The one nearest to the road is for the kitchen
and service; there Shukari, our Maronite _chef_, in his white cap and
apron, turns out an admirable six-course dinner on a portable charcoal
range not three feet square. Around the door of this tent there is much
coming and going: edibles of all kinds are brought for sale; visitors
squat in sociable conversation; curious children hang about, watching
the proceedings, or waiting for the favours which a good cook can
bestow.

The next tent is the dining-room; the huge wooden chests of the canteen,
full of glass and china and table-linen and new Britannia-ware, which
shines like silver, are placed one on each side of the entrance; behind
the central tent-pole stands the dining-table, with two chairs at the
back and one at each end, so that we can all enjoy the view through the
open door. The tent is lofty and lined with many-coloured cotton cloth,
arranged in elaborate patterns, scarlet and green and yellow and blue.
When the four candles are lighted on the well-spread table, and Youssouf
the Greek, in his embroidered jacket and baggy blue breeches, comes in
to serve the dinner, it is quite an Oriental scene. His assistant,
Little Youssouf, the Copt, squats outside of the tent, at one side of
the door, to wash up the dishes and polish the Britannia-ware.

The two other tents are of the same pattern and the same gaudy colours
within: each of them contains two little iron bedsteads, two Turkish
rugs, two washstands, one dressing-table, and such baggage as we had
imagined necessary for our comfort, piled around the tent-pole,--this by
way of precaution, lest some misguided hand should be tempted to slip
under the canvas at night and abstract an unconsidered trifle lying near
the edge of the tent.

Of our own men I must say that we never had a suspicion, either of their
honesty or of their good-humour. Not only the four who had most
immediately to do with us, but also the two chief muleteers, Mohammed
'Ali and Mousa, and the songful boy, Mohammed el Nasan, who warbled an
interminable Arabian ditty all day long, and Faris and the two other
assistants, were models of fidelity and willing service. They did not
quarrel (except once, over the division of the mule-lo