From time to time, when we are taking our meals in the open air, I see the shepherd boys staring at us from a respectful distance.  To them we must seem no better than savages.  In the first place, we sit on chairs and not on the ground.  We cut our bread, which, as every True Believer knows, is a wicked act and defies Providence, since bread is from Allah and may be broken with the hand but never touched with a knife.  Then we do not know how to eat with our fingers, but use knives and forks and spoons that, after mere washing, are common property.  We do not have water poured out over our fingers before the meal begins,—­the preliminary wash in the tent is invisible and does not count,—­and we do not say “Bismillah” before we start eating.  We are just heathens, they must say to themselves.  Our daily bathing seems to puzzle them greatly.  I do not notice that little Larbi or his brother Kasem ever tempt the sea to wash or drown them.  Yet they look healthy enough, and are full of dignity.  You may offer them fruit or sweetmeats or anything tempting that may be on the table, and they will refuse it.  I fancy they regard the invitation to partake of Nazarene’s food as a piece of impertinence, only excusable because Nazarenes are mad.

The days slip away from the plateau below Mediunah.  March has yielded place to April.  To-morrow the pack-mules will be here at sunrise.  In the afternoon, when the cool hours approach, camp will be struck, and we shall ride down the avenue of cork trees for the last time on the way to “Tanjah of the Nazarenes,” whence, at the week end, the boat will carry us to some Atlantic port, there to begin a longer journey.

[Illustration:  The goatherd from MEDIUNA]

FOOTNOTES: 

[1] “Moreover, we have decked the lower heaven with lamps, and have made them for pelting the devils.”—­Al Koran; Sura, “The Kingdom.”

[2] “The Far West”, the native name for Morocco.

[3] One of the most charming of these houses is “Aidonia,” belonging to Mr. Ion Perdicaris.  He was seized there by the brigand Rais Uli in May last.

[4] Shelters provided by the Government for travellers.

[5] A.J.  Dawson, whose novels dealing with Morocco are full of rare charm and distinction.

FROM TANGIER TO DJEDIDA

[Illustration:  Old buildings, Tangier]

CHAPTER II

FROM TANGIER TO DJEDIDA

Whan that Aprille with his shoures soote
The droghte of March hath perced to the roote

* * * * *

Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages.

The Canterbury Tales.