ther afield, into remote regions of
uncertain climate, was too great.

[Illustration: _Photo by A. Cavilla, Tangier._]

THE RIVER TENSIF OUTSIDE MARRAKESH.

[_To face p. 346._]

Early one morning we set forth upon our last march, back again to the
coast, by the track which leads eventually to Mazagan, a seaport some
distance farther north than Mogador. Here we hoped to pick up a steamer,
and proceed, _via_ Tangier, across to Gibraltar, where it would be
possible to get a P. & O. boat and head for home.

The march to Mazagan was easy, and contained little incident. After
leaving the plains of Marrakesh and its waving palm-trees, and seeing the
tall Kutobea disappear at last, we found ourselves in the "Little
Mountains," and along the rough road began to fall in continually with
parties of tribesmen, Arab country people, all mounted, who had been
commandeered to accompany the Sultan as far as Fez, and who were now
coming back to their homes. Splendid bronzed fellows they were, dark
brick-dust colour, wrapped in long white cloaks, with the hood of an
under garment pulled down over their faces: sometimes a white cloth
swathed their heads; their chins were hidden in soft folds which reached
up to their hawk-eyes, veiling the face, like true sons of the desert, as
a protection against sun and wind. Guns were slung across their
shoulders: they wore long yellow riding-boots and spurs, with half a
dozen saddle-cloths; and all rode horses, strong little beasts, well
groomed, some hog-maned, but usually with great locks of hair sweeping
over their necks, and their tails almost touching the ground behind. On
grey or white countrybreds as a rule, they wound along the mountain path
in single file, these tall white-cloaked horsemen, in nowise differing
from their ancestors of a thousand years ago--Arabs of unbroken descent:
as they emerged from between the wild hills it would have been hard to
find a more picturesque sight.

One of the few peaceful camping-grounds between Marrakesh and Mazagan was
at a little distance outside an Arab village of about thirty little
pointed thatched huts, enclosed within a zareba of thorn-bushes: it was
called Smeera.

We camped near some trees and water: the fig-trees were full of crows,
which came in to roost in thousands, and The Little Owl (_Athene noctua_)
haunted the place. In the early half-light of the morning this
wise-looking little bird was found, when we awoke, to be sitting upon the