that the popular respect is for the strong hand--that civilised government
would take long to clear itself of the imputation of cowardice. The local
kaid is always a tyrant, but he is above all things a man, keen-witted,
adventurous, prompt to strike, and determined to bleed his subjects white.
So the men of the village, while suffering so keenly from his arbitrary
methods, look with fear and wonder at their master, respect him secretly,
and hope the day will come when by Allah's grace they too will be allowed
to have mastery over their fellows and to punish others as they have been
punished. Strength is the first and greatest of all virtues, so far as
they can see, and cunning and ferocity are necessary gifts in a land where
every man's hand is against his neighbour.

[Illustration: TRAVELLERS BY NIGHT]

The last cup of green tea has been taken, the charcoal, no longer
refreshed by the bellows, has ceased to glow, around us the native fires
are out. The hour of repose is upon the night, and the great athletic
villagers rise, resume their slippers, and pass with civil salutation
to their homes. Beyond the tent our guards are sleeping soundly in their
blankets; the surrounding silence is overwhelming. The grave itself could
hardly be more still. Even the hobbled animals are at rest, and we enter
into the enveloping silence for five or six dreamless hours.

* * * * *

The horses stir and wake me; I open the tent and call the men. Our guards
rouse themselves and retire to their huts. The Maalem, no worse, to
outward seeming, for the night's debauch, lights the charcoal. It is about
half-past three, the darkness has past but the sun has not risen, the land
seems plunged in heavy sleep, the air is damp and chill. Few pleasures