were, even if they could follow its progress from their point of vantage on the head of the cliff.

Our ingenuities were therefore further requisitioned, and a balloon was the expedient next resolved upon. The materials for making such an article were, however, somewhat primitive. Of silk we had none on board, except a few pocket-handkerchiefs, and paper was voted too flimsy. A roll of calico-thin, cheap stuff was considered to be the most suitable material at our disposal, and all the next morning-Sunday, by the way the Major, Watling, Beyerle, and I were occupied in cutting out and stitching together the requisite number of pear-shaped pieces. When completed, it was oiled to make it more air-tight, and the next thing to be considered was the lamp. It was necessary that that it should be fairly light, or the balloon would never reach the shore, and the Major had a brilliant idea. Out of an old circular tobacco-tin he constructed a very efficient lamp to burn paraffin, and it was hoped that the hot air thus generated would be sufficient to float our message over the half-mile or so of sea that intervened between us and the land.

As a stand-by in case of failure, the Captain and Mr. Henfrey busied themselves with making a large paper kite; but to ensure success in either case a westerly wind was wind was necessary. Alas, for all our trouble! The balloon was hung up on one of the ropes to dry, but Mr. Henfrey, who was taking the second dog-watch, forgot to order it to be taken in when he came down to dinner, and when we came to look for it in the morning, we found it had been blown overboard. The kite was also useless, as a heavy breeze was blowing from the south-east, and though the swell seemed to have gone down somewhat, there

was no chance whatever of getting ashore that day. Everyone was gloomy and low-spirited, and it was even hinted that we might have to go back and wait till the good season in May or June.

'I've been in a good many parts of the world in sail and steam,' said Mr. Henfrey; 'but I never saw anything like this damned coast in all my life, except at Cape Cross, and there they have proper surf-boats.'

'Never mind, Mr. Henfrey,' I said. 'Let's get the dinghy out and have a spin for mackerel;' and anything being better than idly staring at the shore, he readily assented.

But our ill-luck still pursued us. Not a bite did we get, nor even the sight of a fish, except a brute of a shark that swam lazily round our boat as though he were loafing about on the off-chance of our being upset by one of the big waves that came rolling along, now lifting us up on the crest, now hiding the yacht and all the coast from view.

The next morning brought some slight improvement in the swell, but the wind was still blowing from the south-east, rendering the kite useless. If only it would blow pretty hard for about twenty-four hours we thought there would be a prospect of it flattening out the sea; but there was nothing for it but to wait and possess our souls in patience. If it had not been that the day we arrived off the coast the sea had been smooth, with no swell to speak of, we should all, I think, have come to the conclusion that we might have to wait weeks before landing. In fact, most of us, I believe, had come to that conclusion, but the Major alone, like Brer Rabbit, 'lay low, and kept on saying nothing.'

By way of a diversion, if nothing else, the Major

ordered steam up, and we went slowly along the coast northwards, keeping a sharp look-out for any break, either in the shore or in the surf, which would provide us with an opportunity to land. All those streams that were marked in the chart appeared to us only as dried-up watercourses, although we supposed the rainy season to be at its height. And, indeed, it rained very heavily that day-not persistently, but in sudden downpours, with bright intervals—and the clouds lay low, shrouding the mountain-tops in mist.

About ten miles' steaming brought us to Ifni, a town at the mouth of the Wad of the same name, and built up the side of a hill 300 feet above the level of the sea, easily recognisable by the little white saint-house on the beach. Throughout Morocco there is a great similarity between all these saint-houses-the tombs of some venerated followers of the Prophet - built generally of tabbia, or mud, in the form of a square, with turreted walls, the roof surmounted by a dome, and the whole generally whitewashed.

What constitutes a saint in Morocco is difficult accurately to state, but judging by the number of their tombs that one meets with all over the country, the qualifications for canonization cannot be very stringent. The infidel traveller is apt to form the conclusion that the greater rogue and blackguard a man is in Morocco, the better chance he stands of being venerated after death and obtaining a tomb at the public expense. As in all Mohammedan countries, idiots are considered as 'afflicted of Allah,' and therefore regarded as more or less sacred, and vagaries are tolerated from them that would land any less favoured of Allah in the nearest prison.

Quite recently there was a man in Saffi whose

particular craze was to perform acts of the grossest indecency. Frequently he would appear in the streets in a state of absolute nudity. Unfortunately, his indecencies were not always of this passive character, but his relations with the opposite sex were not interfered with, even when of the most flagrant description, because he was a saint. When one considers that any woman to whom this vicious lunatic had devoted special attention was thereafter regarded as 'favoured,' and partaking somewhat of his reflected glory and sanctity, one can easily understand that a state of things was created that was highly detrimental to the welfare of public morals.

But this is digressing. No more favourable landingplace was discovered, except perhaps at Ifni itself, but the Wad marked the northern extremity of the territory mentioned in the treaty between the Major and the tribes, and it was uncertain whether the tribe that dwelt there was friendly with the Sbooyas, who occupied the sea coast in the Arksis district. On our way back to our old anchorage, the Major pointed out to us, about five miles from Arksis, another sainthouse-the tomb of Sidi Warzuk, who gave his name also to the district-which the two natives whom the Major had brought from Mogador on his previous trip had used as a landmark to guide them home. And so off Arksis we dropped the hook again, and fell to staring at the hills we longed to climb, the outline of which we now knew by heart, and waited with what patience and good temper we could command for more favourable weather.

CHAPTER V.

ARKSIS.

A pessimist-Preparations for landing-The Major goes ashore -An unsatisfactory pow-wow-An ingenious proposalMoorish diplomacy-Landing of the tents and storesDescription of the cove-Port Hillsborough - European relics - Curtis's expedition His death in the Sudan Difficult landing-Dress and appearance of the nativesTheir wealth and taste for luxury'-Our camping-ground.

At last! On the morning of January 5, after having been off the coast a week, we woke to find that the swell had almost disappeared, the sea only breaking when close to the beach. Where the cliffs dipped sheer into the sea there was no surf visible, the waves licking the rocks gently, instead of foaming at the mouth.

'This looks better, Mr. Henfrey,' I remarked, as I went up on the bridge to sharpen my appetite for breakfast with the morning breeze.

'Yes,' he admitted-reluctantly, I thought. If the wind keeps in this quarter, and blows as hard as this for another twenty-four hours, I think we might get the boat out to-morrow and see what it's like.'

This sounded very conditional, but Mr. Henfrey's worst enemy would not accuse him of being an optimist.