shout, "Mahomet! Mahomet! Mahomet! always Mahomet! D--n Mahomet!
I wish he were dead, or back in Cairo, this brute Mahomet!" The
irascible dragoman would then beat his own head unmercifully with
his fists, in a paroxysm of rage.

To comfort him I could only exclaim, "Well done, Mahomet! thrash
him; pommel him well; punch his head; you know him best; he
deserves it; don't spare him!" This advice, acting upon the
natural perversity of his disposition, generally soothed him, and
he ceased punching his head. This man was entirely out of his
place, if not out of his mind, at certain moments, and having
upon one occasion smashed a basin by throwing it in the face of
the cook, and upon another occasion narrowly escaped homicide, by
throwing an axe at a man's head, which missed by an inch, he
became a notorious character in the little expedition.

We left Berber in the evening at sunset; we were mounted upon
donkeys, while our Turkish attendants rode upon excellent
dromedaries that belonged to their regiment of irregular cavalry.
As usual, when ready to start, Mahomet was the last; he had piled
a huge mass of bags and various luggage upon his donkey, that
almost obscured the animal, and he sat mounted upon this pinnacle
dressed in gorgeous clothes, with a brace of handsome pistols in
his belt, and his gun slung across his shoulders. Upon my
remonstrating with him upon the cruelty of thus overloading the
donkey, he flew into a fit of rage, and dismounting immediately,
he drew his pistols from his belt and dashed them upon the
ground; his gun shared the same fate, and heaving his weapons
upon the sand, he sullenly walked behind his donkey, which he
drove forward with the caravan.