x years old, Tahara about twenty. He was a
sinewy, long-legged ruffian, well over six feet, and holding himself
creditably. He had a pair of fierce, dark, restless eyes, little beard or
moustache, the front half of his head shaved, and a few locks left long
at the back in token of his being a "brave" and having slain his man in a
blood-feud. The Riffi turban, of strings of dark red wool, was wound
round his head; a white shirt showed at his neck; he wore a black
waistcoat, a white tunic down to his knees, and red knicks, below which
came his long hairy shanks, ending in a pair of yellow slippers.

A scarlet leather bag, hung by a red cord over his shoulders, a leather
belt, and his gun, finished off our Moorish servant, who shot us
partridges, roasted chickens, and was as good a hand at buttered eggs and
coffee as I have ever seen.

Out of doors he always wore his brown jellab, embroidered with silk tufts
of green and yellow and white.

Tahara was a pretty, pale, dark girl, with curious cabalistic Riffi marks
tattooed in blue on her forehead and chin. She bound round her head an
orange-coloured silk handkerchief; wore, except when at work, an
embroidered yellow waistcoat, a pale blue kaftan down to her ankles, a
sprigged, white muslin, loose garment, all over that; and a creamy
woollen haik, when she went out or was cold, covered everything.

S`lam acted as butler, Tahara kept our rooms in order, and they were
joint cooks. Their standing dish was mutton stewed in vegetables, or a
chicken; and given time, four hours in the pot, on the pan of charcoal,
it was quite a success. But they learnt many things in a Dutch oven lent
by the missionaries, besides stews. They had eccentricities--as when
S`lam prepared to put the toast-rack itself on the charcoal fire, with
the bread in it, thus to "toast": the toast-rack we made ourselves, too,
out of some old wire. They kept chickens, which S`lam brought home from
market, either in their bedrooms for the night, or else in the kitchen,
until their crops were empty and they could be killed.

Every morning S`lam was dispatched to the city with a basket,
instructions, and two or three shillings. He stayed there an
unconscionable time, visiting his mother, and sitting sunning himself in
the doorway of a little Moorish cafe, returning laden before lunch. He
never went into the city without his gun and best jellab, striding along
with his long legs--a most picturesque figure. After din