leading
the way outside, and choosing a spot as far removed from the fence as
possible, though only too near for our own comfort. As soon as the tents
were pitched and the sun had set, such a noise of goats (which had just
been driven inside the douar) bleating, and donkeys braying, and dogs
barking, and children crying, arose, as we prayed it might not be our lot
often to hear at the end of a hard day.

An admiring throng had gathered round us while the tent was in course of
erection, and we were sitting on the grass. One old woman squatted before
us, cross-legged, not a yard from our feet, and _gazed_; she wore nothing
but one woollen garment, apparently a square held together on the
shoulders by steel pins: her skinny arms, legs, and feet were bare, of
course. We did not encourage "the masses," but kept them at arm's-length
with sticks.

That was a noisy night: half the douar was apparently being entertained
in the servants' tent, which for safety was pitched all too close to our
own, and they talked far on into the small hours in mumbling undertones,
to the sound of which we finally slept, nor waked till a glorious dawn in
a cloudless sky roused us at five o'clock. The herds were then wending
their way out of the douar, filing across the plain, the mysterious
delicate light of sunrise on the backs of the sheep and goats. By seven
o'clock the sun was too hot to sit in for choice. We had already
breakfasted in the conical shadow cast by the tent, a group of children
watching every operation, some of them wearing the quaintest necklaces,
of argan nuts strung together, and lumps of yellow sulphur sewn into
perforated squares of leather: these were eagerly untied and handed over
to us for a _bellune_ (21/2d.).

At eight o'clock we had left the douar behind, and were heading for
Sheshaoua, south of the Camel's Back, along a trail more stony and
desert-like than any before: even the few thorn-bushes did not flourish;
perhaps the white snails, with which they were so thickly covered that
the branches looked all in blossom, did not agree with them--snails which
are beloved of partridges. We met no man nor animal, till at last a
_rekass_ passed us, a runner carrying the mail to Mogador, jogging along
the two hundred and seventy miles' journey, for which he would be paid,
there and back again, thirteen shillings. His stick was tucked under his
clothes, down his back, for the sake of ventilation; his waistband was
tightened;