int-house of the deepest sanctity, near which a
country market is held one day a week. Up to this cluster of what Omar
dignified by the name of _shops_ we rode, and, dismounting, stooped our
heads, and took possession of one of the minute mud-booths, the servants
going into another next door. We could sit upright, though not stand, and
there was shade in the shape of a thatched covering, while after the
glare and flare of the sun outside it was as cool as a cellar.

From one to three we rested there, drank green tea after lunch, studied
maps, took notes. But the sun was as hot as ever when we took to the open
road again, plain before us, the Atlas dimly to be seen. Some oddly
formed hills, from four to five hundred feet high, flat-topped, presently
appeared: one, from its contour, is called _Hank-el-Jemmel_ (Camel's
Back). We rode past them. A layer of coarse chalcedony covers the flat
summits, which would offer resistance when, ages ago, the Atlas wall was
scooped into ridge and ravine, and the plain below washed bare, except
for isolated remnants, such as these table-hills. We picked up fragments
of chalcedony and small blocks of volcanic rock, or basalt.

About five o'clock we reached an Arab _douar_, or village, and decided to
camp near it for the night. Twenty or thirty conical huts, made of
branches and grass and anything which keeps out the sun, black camel's
hair or a worn-out garment; the whole surrounded by a great hedge, or
_zareba_, of the thorny lotus, not growing, but piled up, one hole left
in the fence for exit, and closed at night by simply piling extra thorns
in the space; a company of howling dogs,--such is an Arab douar, and it
is probably unequalled for filth, though when the parasites become too
many, even the thick-skinned Bedouin moves out, and a new douar is put up
somewhere else. There was no choice as regards camping near such a spot:
it may have been unsafe in the open--at any rate no servants could ever
be induced to sleep except under the protection of a village or a kasbah.

It was five o'clock. An old sheikh or headman came out from between the
thorn-barrier, welcomed us, and led the way inside to a perfectly
impossible open space, a dunghill, amongst the huts, where we might camp;
it was overrun with fowls, and covered with filth of every description.
Therefore, though assured that we should be much safer within the zareba,
and deeply against the wishes of the servants, we insisted upon