ndles, with the same bent backs; and habit is
second nature.

After the string of women came along a youth, with two small donkeys,
laden with panniers full of green vegetables. The donkeys jibbed upon the
brink; many "Arrahs" and curses and much cudgelling with a stick got them
started; the panniers swayed horribly, and threatened to turn completely
round, as the current pushed the donkeys over this side and that. Once
in, they made pluckily for the opposite shore; but the stream carried
them down; the water was well up their bodies; the distracted boy plunged
and struggled behind first this one and then the other, whichever seemed
in most danger--for the ford was none too wide. Urging them to keep
up-stream, he clung on to one refractory pannier. The water rose higher
and almost took them off their feet; but that was the worst place; now it
was better. The leading donkey was in safety in shallower water, nearing
dry land; but the other poor fellow seemed less strong, and was not able
to make half such a good fight of it--its load may have been heavier. In
spite of the boy it got lower and lower down-stream: suddenly there was
an upheaval and a splash; its head went under altogether, pack and
everything in a hole. Then the boy surpassed himself; for, deep as it
was, he was there in a moment, got hold of the donkey behind, and pushed
and half lifted, at no small risk to himself, and pulled, until the
little fellow, after several relapses, found his feet. Finally, he waded
out, and stood, like a drowned rat, on the bank, pack and all streaming;
then he collected himself after a pause, and doddered off towards the
sok. The boy shook himself and his soaked clothes, clutched his stick,
and ran after his donkeys.

A well-to-do Moor, possibly a sheikh, was the next to go for the ford.
He probably farmed, and his sleek mule was full of green corn and
"beans." They were things of colour, the pair of them: all the mule's
appointments scarlet, himself a glossy brown; while his master, in dark
blue, sat tight on his scarlet saddle, his bright chased stirrups
flashing, so short as to bring his feet right up the mule's side--his
turban, white as snow, with the red peak of the fez underneath, the
deepest blot of colour, against the sky. A white garment waved out in the
breeze under the blue jellab; he sat straight as a withy, feeling the
mule's mouth with a hard hand, and bringing its nose into the air. There
were some bravado and a