ze tombs
deep in the shade of ilex trees--small buildings made of stone and
mud, like little houses, each with an opening level with the ground,
and a much smaller opening, like a window, at the height of a man's
elbow.

'Thou seest?' cried my tutor. 'Those are graves. The openings on the
ground were made too large, and jackals have got in and pulled the
bodies out. The men who made those graves are foolish people, who have
wandered from the truth. They think the spirits of the dead have need
of food and light, and also of a hole for crawling in and out. I heard
thee ask thy servant for a match just now. Come, I will show thee
where to find one always.'

He led me to the nearest tomb, and thrust my hand into the little hole
which served as window. It touched a heap of matches which he bade me
take and put into my pocket, saying:

'It is not a theft, for the matches have been thrown away, as you
might say. Those foolish people will suppose the dead have struck
them. They used to put wax candles and tinder-boxes with them in the
niches, but when these sulphur matches came in fashion, they
preferred them for economy. When I am working in this wood I take no
fire with me, being quite sure to find the means of lighting one.
Praise be to Allah for some people's folly!'

I thanked him for the wrinkle, and went back to join Rashid, who was
exclaiming with the others over our deception. But everyone agreed
that the mistake was natural for men bewildered in the darkness of the
night.

CHAPTER XXV

MURDERERS

Rashid and I were riding down to Tripoli, and had long been looking
for a certain 'kheymah' or refreshment booth beside the road, which an
enterprising Christian of that town had opened in the summer months
for the relief of travellers. When at length we came in sight of it,
we saw a crowd of men reposing on the ground before its awning. We
soon lost sight of them again in a ravine, and it was not till we were
close upon them, climbing up the other bank, that I remarked that most
of them were shackled and in charge of a small guard of Turkish
soldiers.

'Criminals upon their way to the hard labour prison,' said Rashid.

'What have they done?' I asked, as we dismounted.

He strolled across and put a question to their escort, then returned
and told me:

'They are murderers.'

After that information it surprised me, while we ate our luncheon, to
observe their open faces, and to hear them laugh and chatt