napkins with Corot landscapes printed on them; and plenty
of gingersnaps and lady fingers, pretty thoroughly flyblown; the whole
supplemented with sheaves of wild flowers cut in the fields with a
scythe. It all looked grand and imposing for the money, but somehow
lacked the substantial body (as well as fragrance) of beefsteak and
onions. The _piece de resistance_ however, really consisted of stewed
kid and roast goat. I could not stomach either, so I went out and bought
three fresh eggs from a native who kept hens, had them boiled four
minutes and was the envy of the entire crowd ever after.

There was a large courtyard, and a big, dark, Byronic-looking dragoman
came round and proposed a barbaric dance to our people. Ali Cocash was
his name, and he described this dance as an imitation of a fierce and
bloody orgy, such as the Bedouins indulge in after a great victory. They
were to shout, grunt and brandish their guns, dirks, pistols and swords,
and to behave generally in a very disreputable manner; in fact, Ali
gravely intimated that it would be no place for timid ladies. This
simply whetted our appetites and we promptly closed with him for the
dance for a certain amount of "teep." The hat was passed and the tips
put in. Then a row of about twenty-five as hangdog-looking Bedouins as
were ever strung up in the Valley of Jehoshaphat began a kind of mewling
cry, such as a rat would make in a trap. This did not satisfy us and we
went for Cocash; we wanted "blood!" or at least an imitation of crime and
deviltry. Ali consulted with the Bedouins and came back with a smiling
solution of our difficulty. He said,

"My men have had a hard day's work and are tired and not able to do
themselves justice, but if you give them more 'teep,' they will give you
a good show and you will see something, sure."

Again the hat was passed, and the sons of the desert, after some rest,
began anew. This time they brought torches with them, and they did make
an abominable lot of noise and flung their armory about in a really
reckless fashion. One of them dropped a burning torch on his neighbor
and set fire to his clothes; this led to a fight which soon became
general, and they began to bang one another right and left with anything
that came to hand. Blood was flowing freely and the dragoman was in
despair. He rushed into a stable and came out with a wooden pitchfork
with which he drove them back, and restored order once more.

Two