The mode of making butter in vogue at this village was very peculiar. The
cream was put into a leathern bottle, and shaken about on the ground
until the butter consolidated. It was then put into another bottle
filled with water, and finally turned out as white as snow.

Next day, when they rested during the heat, the guide of the caravan
endeavoured to procure her a little shelter from the glare of the
pitiless sun by laying a small cover over a couple of poles stuck into
the ground. But the place shaded was so small, and the tent so frail,
that she was compelled to sit quietly in one position, as the slightest
movement would have involved it in ruin. Shortly afterwards, when she
wished for some refreshment, nothing could be procured but lukewarm
water, bread so hard that it could not be eaten until thoroughly soaked,
and a cucumber without salt or vinegar.

At a village near Kerka the caravan tarried for two days. On the first
day Madame Pfeiffer's patience was sorely tried. All the women of the
place flocked to examine the stranger. First they inspected her clothes,
then wanted to take the turban off her head; and, in fact, proved
themselves most troublesome intruders. At last Madame Pfeiffer seized
one of them by the arm, and turned her out of her tent so quickly that
she had no time to think of resistance. By the eloquence of gesture our
traveller made the others understand that, unless they withdrew at once,
a similarly abrupt dismissal awaited them. She then drew a circle round
her tent, and forbade them to cross it; an injunction which was strictly
respected.

She had now only to settle with the wife of her guide, who had besieged
her the whole day, pressing as near as possible, and petitioning for some
of her "things." Fortunately her husband came on the scene, and to him