over large sandy tracts which suggested our proximity to the sea.

What must strike every visitor to Morocco is its treelessness. Of course, the palmetto and the olive are ubiquitous, and the argan flourishes amazingly in certain districts; but they are not timber. Only the Forest of Mamora, in the neighbourhood of Rabat, is left to show what Morocco may once have been before the ruthless cutting down of trees, which has been going on the last thousand years, made naked its hills and valleys, and in no slight degree affected its climate. This stretch of country was the barest that we had yet traversed, and, though travelling was rather smoother and easier over these sandy dunes, I would rather have had the rougher roads of the more varied landscape. At length we came to a river, and the rolling dunes gave place once more to winding valley and rugged slope. Before us on a hill-top was the Dar el Kaid Hadj Hamed Ksim, which marked the limit of our day's journey. The river was the deepest we had so far come across, and in fording it one of the donkeys got out of its depth into a hole. All efforts to haul it out utterly failed, and the lopping off of a portion of the poor beast's tail with the dagger-knife of his enraged driver only gave unnecessary pain without achieving the desired result. What became of the unfortunate animal ultimately I don't know, but I was told that its pack was unloaded, and that it was left to drown or perish miserably as it stood with its feet embedded in the river's sandy bottom.

One other accident happened before we camped, one of the native prisoners falling from his camel. He was, however, not hurt, although his feet were chained together, and he was soon remounted.

The Kaid who had given his name to the dar, or house, on the hill, had once governed the district for some distance round; but after his death the tribe had come under the more powerful sway of Kaid Giluli, who now exercised undisputed jurisdiction under the Sultan from Mogador to Tisnit. Mogador to Tisnit. With his son as principal Khalifa in his kasbah in the province of Haha, near Mogador, and other Khalifas or lieutenants scattered about the borders of Sus, Kaid Giluli had by fire and sword dragooned the Kabilas into submission, making his own headquarters at Tisnit, whence he could the more conveniently direct raiding operations against the stubborn and unbeaten tribes of Western Sus. This house at Ksima, which was a huge pile of tabbia, with more pretensions to architecture than most of such buildings possess, had not been taken over as one of his residences, but was occupied by the tribesmen of the village like a barracks.

Here, on the slope of the hill, between the kasbah and the market stalls, our tents were pitched for the night. As before, our tent and that of the native prisoners were pitched close together, so that one man sitting between could mount guard over both. Under Kaid Hassan we were allowed a little more freedom of movement, which made obedience to the calls of nature somewhat easier for us, though, of course, under the supervision of an escort.

From this spot we had a fine view of Agadir on the summit of a distant hill overlooking the sea, like some great white bird resting on the final peak before taking wing again across the blue ocean which lay below it. From Agadir the great range of the mighty Atlas Mountains rises and stretches away as far as the eye can reach, the peaks gradually becoming more and

more majestic and imposing, until at length their summits are crowned with the eternal snows. And as I looked I remembered the words of Al-al, and knew that our road lay, not through the difficult and dangerous passes of those rugged mountains to Marrakesh, but by the sea-coast to Mogador.

CHAPTER XXIII.

ACROSS THE BORDER.

The 'irritability of Africa'-Collapse of the mules-We arrive at Agadir-Its history and present appearance-Our last look at Sus-Reflections thereon-The Governor of Agadir-An impromptu entertainment - Taga-zoost - Disappearance of my diary I recover it by stratagem - Our supposed swimming powers-A companionable Kaid—The music of the Moors-Scandalous robbery-The Sultan's letters wetted —Misti has a narrow escape-Arrival at Eda Gilul-Last has an attack of fever-No more chains.

OFF again at sunrise! I think it is Henry Seton Merriman that speaks in one of his books of 'the irritability of Africa.' I suppose something of the sort was upon us that morning, for everyone seemed to be as touchy as tinder. One of the Moorish officers had objected to carry out some order of Kaid Hassan's, and the latter very quickly convinced him as to who was in command of the escort. It was a piece of illluck when, immediately after this, poor old El F'kir Embarak fell foul of the Kaid, for Hassan silenced the old man's complaints by giving him a savage prod in the chest with a long stick that he carried, which sent the Susi saint staggering backwards. Sabbah, too, who had not so far been a pattern of either good spirits, good temper, or good behaviour, had rather

more to say to Beyerle concerning the loading of his mule than the ex-cavalry officer cared about, and when from grumbling he lapsed into blasphemy and personal abuse, his flow of language was promptly arrested by a back-hander across his mouth. Altogether it was a relief when we got under way, and the wrangling of the camp gave place to the light-hearted carolling of the Moorish soldiers with their cracked and unmusical voices. Truly the song of the modern Moor is a fearsome thing, being considerably inferior in point of harmony and rhythm even to that of the Spanish gipsy.

Our long forced marches were already beginning to tell upon the mules, mine particularly showing signs of giving out; and when the poor brute finally dropped on his knees and shot me over his head, I thought it would be a pleasant change to stretch my legs and walk. Kaid Hassan, however, thought it looked too 'free and easy,' so, meeting a man driving three unloaded camels, he stopped him in the name of the Sultan, and, calmly appropriating one of these travelling instruments of torture, ordered me to mount it. The man, of course, argued and protested against this arbitrary levy of transport, with many appeals and references to Allah, but he was eventually appeased on the Kaid promising to return him his beast as soon as we should meet on the road a man with a mule, as that was the animal he really wanted, though a camel would serve his purpose meanwhile. Fearing lest worse evil should befall him if he offered further opposition, the unfortunate camel-driver turned his three animals back, and retraced his steps with our caravan, fervently praying, no doubt, that the man with the mules would not be long in putting in an appearance.