ter beloved of Unbelievers. He could not have been more
than five feet high, and he was burnt brown. His dark outer garment of
coarse native wool had the curious yellow patch on the back that all
Berbers seem to favour, though none can explain its origin or purpose, and
he carried his slippers in his hand, probably deeming them less capable of
withstanding hard wear than his naked feet. He had no Arabic, but spoke
only "Shilha," the language of the Berbers, so it took some time to make
all arrangements, including the stipulation that a proper meal for all the
mules was to be given under the superintendence of M'Barak. That worthy
representative of Shareefian authority was having a regal time, drawing a
dollar a day, together with three meals and a ration for his horse, in
return for sitting at ease in the courtyard of the Tin House.

Arrangements concluded, it was time to say good-bye to Sidi Boubikir. I
asked delicately to be allowed to pay rent for the use of the house, but
the hospitable old man would not hear of it. "Allah forbid that I should
take any money," he remarked piously. "Had you told me you were going I
would have asked you to dine with me again before you started." We sat in
the well-remembered room, where green tea and mint were served in a
beautiful set of china-and-gold filagree cups, presented to him by the
British Government nearly ten years ago. He spoke at length of the places
that should be visited, including the house of his near relative, Mulai el
Hadj of Tamsloht, to whom he offered to send me with letters and an
escort. Moreover, he offered an escort to see us out of the city and on
the road to the coast, but I judged it better to decline both offers, and,
with many high-flown compliments, left him by the entrance to his great
house, and groped back through the mud to put the finishing touches to
packing.

The young shareef accepted a parting gift with grave dignity, and assured
me of his esteem for all time and his willing service when and where I
should need it. I had said good-bye to the "tabibs" and "tabibas," so
nothing remained but to rearrange our goods, that nearly everything should
be ready for the mules when they arrived before daybreak. Knowing that the
first day's ride was a long one, some forty miles over an indifferent road
and with second-rate animals, I was anxious to leave the city as soon as
the gates were opened.

[Illustration: THE JAMA'A EFFINA]

Right above my head th