Marrakesh."[9]

[Illustration: A BLACKSMITH'S SHOP]

In the R'hamna country, on the way to the southern capital, we pitched our
tents one night in a Government n'zala, or guarded camping-ground, one of
many that are spread about the country for the safety of travellers. The
price of corn, eggs, and chickens was amazingly high, and the Maalem
explained that the n'zala was kept by some of the immediate family of
Mahedi el Menebhi, who had put them there, presumably to make what profit
they could. I looked very carefully at our greedy hosts. They were a rough
unprepossessing crowd, but their wealth in sheep and goats alone was
remarkable, and their stock was safe from molestation, for they were
known to be relatives of the Sultan's chief minister, a man whose arm is
long and hard-hitting. Since last autumn Menebhi has resigned his high
office, reduced his household, manumitted many slaves, and gone on the
great pilgrimage to Mecca, so it may be presumed that his relatives in the
forsaken R'hamna country have lowered their prices. Yet, 'tis something to
have a great wazeer for relative even though, for the time being, loss of
favour has given him leisure for pious observances.

At length the evening came, when the last mule was selected, the last
package made up, and nothing lay between us and the open road. Sleep was
hard to woo. I woke before daylight, and was in the patio before the first
animal arrived, or the sleepy porter had fumbled at the door of the
warehouse where the luggage was stacked.

Morn in the white wake of the morning star
Came furrowing all the orient into gold,