that he treated us well because we were in an unfortunate position, and he never knew when he might find himself in a similar predicament.

It was the turn of Beyerle and Last to have the chains on that night-the long and the short of it, as de Reya whispered under his breath-and in spite of the discomfort of being fastened to each other by a short ankle-chain, they were both soon sound asleep. The rest of us could not get to sleep for a long while, and so amused ourselves with a native fiddle till after midnight. The gimbri, or Moorish fiddle, is made of a piece of wood hollowed out and covered with goatskin, to which a long neck is fixed. Tuning-pegs, two gut-strings, and a roughly-made bridge complete the instrument, which is played, after the manner of a mandoline, by twanging the strings with a small piece of palm fibre. The natives have only the crudest idea of music, but are quite happy strumming on this primitive instrument, or listening to monotonous and unmelodious songs droned out to its accompaniment.

The gimbri was our lullaby, and the music of the breakers on the beach was our waking-song, and our march was resumed soon after sunrise, still following the coast-line. Here and there the track left the beach and wound along the hillsides, but we kept the sea always in sight. At one place the route lay along the edge of a sandy hill overhanging the sea. One false step of the mule or the camel, and the rider would have been precipitated 100 feet into the water below. Several times during the day we met caravans going south, and scarcely one was allowed to pass scot-free, Kaid Hassan appropriating a camel or a mule in the name of the Sultan as the spirit moved him. Sometimes this daylight robbery was indulged in out of pure

more animals were not Once we met two men

love of the thing, and when really wanted by our party. driving a couple of camels, one animal loaded and the other light. Seeing our party approaching, they endeavoured to get out of the way, but were unsuccessful. Both animals were seized, but the owner pleaded hard with Kaid Hassan to be allowed to go on his way unmolested, prayers and blessings falling from his lips in a passionate jumble of language. Eventually he was allowed to buy back one of his own beasts and go free, but the other, with its driver, was retained. The poor owner, however, had scarcely handed over the money demanded of him, when some of the soldiers, seeing that he had still some coins left, snatched his purse from his hand, and sent him penniless away, the Kaid not only not interfering, but laughingly encouraging his subordinates in their dirty work. With such an example as this set by those in authority, the predatory habits of the lower classes in Morocco are scarcely to be wondered at.

Shortly after this incident we met a couple of men on foot who looked like couriers. The Kaid stopped them, and, in reply to his questions, they told him that they were on their way to Kaid Giluli with a letter from the Sultan. We wondered if it concerned us, but there was no means of satisfying our anxiety, and we proceeded on our march, the couriers hurrying on towards Tisnit.

The mules that we had brought from Tisnit were by this time in a sorry condition, and continually breaking down under the strain of the journey. Sabbah was riding a mule that had been stolen en route, while his former mount had been given to de Reya, who was a lighter weight. Others had been

lightened of their loads, which had been transferred to the camels that had been appropriated on the road, but none the less we had great difficulty at times to get the poor beasts along. Last's animal had only just managed to stagger into camp the day before, under the goad of continued prodding and whacking, and in the early afternoon my own mule showed such signs of fatigue that I had to dismount and walk.

On passing a fresh-water lake close to the shore, a halt was called to water the animals. We also took advantage of the opportunity to wash our feet, hands, and faces, which had not known water for several days. One of the mules, in drinking, stumbled, and fell into the water with its load. Among the things it carried was a bag containing letters for the Sultan and Giluli's These all got wet, and had to be laid out in the

son.

sun to dry.

An hour before sunset we reached camp, but half an hour before that Last had been compelled to dismount. His poor mule had struggled on until it could go no further, and had just lain down by the roadside. to die. Twenty-four hours later it would be a cleanpicked skeleton.

We had not expected mona at this camp, as scarcely any houses were visible, but we were agreeably surprised at receiving a very good dish of both meat and kuss-kuss with chickens. The latter we gave to the native prisoners.

From our camp next morning we struck inland, turning our backs on the sea. The road for some distance was easy travelling, and we made good progress, the monotony being varied only by the robbing of occasional caravans. Old Misti had a narrow escape of breaking his neck during the after

noon, as he fell backwards off his camel. I expected to find that he was at any rate seriously injured, but the old man was reserved for a less merciful fate. With the agility of a cat, he turned a somersault as he fell, and, chained though he was, alighted on his feet, none the worse except for a little shaking. Better for him had he died then, for he would thus have been spared an agonizing march of several hundred miles more, and a brutal thrashing administered to him at the Sultan's camp, under the torture of which the old and enfeebled fellow succumbed.

We arrived at Eda Gilul, Kaid Giluli's kasbah, about 4.30. His son, the Khalifa, no doubt expected us, but we dismounted in the adjacent market-place, and waited whilst Kaid Hassan had an interview with him in the inzella, or outbuildings for the accommodation of travellers and their animals. Presently Kaid Hassan returned, and conducted us into a square courtyard surrounded by rooms built of tabbia. At the door of one of these sat the Khalifa, awaiting our arrival, and we had just time to observe that he was a young man of barely thirty years of age, extremely stout, and with a pallid, unhealthy complexion, and small pigs' eyes that were almost hidden by welts of fat. His face was destitute of hair, with the exception of about half a dozen black bristles that had forced their way through his chin, and which he cherished as an incipient beard. His His eyes had a shifty expression, and altogether he was by no means a prepossessing-looking individual.

By his orders we were installed in one of the rooms, adjoining the one occupied by Kaid Hassan, while the native prisoners were herded together in one on the other side of the quadrangle. It was not long before

a tray was sent in to us with teapot, glasses, stove and all accessories necessary for the decoction of the Moors' favourite beverage, and early in the evening we were regaled with a great dish of meat stewed in argan oil, and garnished with raisins. Good grass mats, fairly new, covered the cement floor, but for covering for the night we had to have recourse to our own mackintoshes. And a very uncomfortable night we spent, for to the fleas and lice, with which we had by this time become only too painfully familiar, this room added the terror of bugs, the walls simply swarming with them.

On the top of his other miseries Last was seized with an attack of low fever, the symptoms of which were hot hands and headache, cold feet, aching limbs, drowsiness and a disinclination for food. Kaid Hassan went through the farce of asking us whether we would prefer to resume the march on the following morning, or rest for a day. Under the circumstances, we said we should prefer to rest, but we had no doubt that it was out of consideration for the mules, and not us, that we stayed a day at Eda Gilul. Moreover, there were the presents for the Sultan to be got ready, and letters to be written.

The next day the Khalifa came to pay us a visit, as did also a Jew who knew Sabbah's father in Mogador. To the latter our interpreter gave a pencil note to take to Mogador, but whether the missive was ever delivered I do not know. Here for the first time we were entirely free from chains. Whence the orders came I know not, but on arrival at Giluli's kasbah we said good-bye for ever to those hated fetters.