When the people of a village have a boon to ask or a favor to entreat from the Sultan at Fez, such as the release from prison of some fellow tribesman, or the recall of some too cruel tax-extortioner, a deputation of villagers comes in procession to the tent of the great man, and before the entrance sacrifices a heifer or a sheep. If the chief or the ambassador is inclined to grant the petition, or to further the purposes of the suppliants, he accepts the gift of meat and it is eaten by his escort. If he denies their request, he averts his face; no man is permitted to touch the sacrifice, and it is left as food for birds of prey.
"HAJ" IN DOUBT
"HAJ" IN JOY
"ACHMEDO"
The camp arrangements being complete, and all things made ready for our reception, Haj proudly but anxiously invites our inspection of the interior arrangements of our canvas home. "Well done, Haj Abd-er-Rahman Salama!" we exclaim, as a vision of coziness and comfort is revealed to us. Well done, indeed! No wanderer in a barbarous land could ask for more. We behold soft beds with fresh white sheets and pillow cases, bright rugs upon the turf, a table large enough for two, well spread with tempting food, and all this is protected from heat and cold and rain and wind by a fine triple tent, green without, pink-lined within like a luxurious boudoir. And this is to be our home for forty long delightful days. No matter where our camp may lie, on the barren hillside, in the fertile plain, or on the outskirts of a dirty town, this cozy corner will be always the same. No matter how wild and hostile the surrounding scenes, we have but to draw the tent-flaps close to find ourselves delightfully chez nous. Moreover, we are as well served as in an excellent hotel, for although we lack the electric-button, we have a perfect substitute in the person of Achmedo al Hishu, our valet, groom, and butler. Achmedo is not handsome, but he is indispensable; he is always at hand, answering a call before it is made, satisfying a want as soon as it is felt. He speaks a kind of Tangerine servant language, a mixture of Spanish, French, and English, startling at times, but always comprehensible. His one fault is a fondness for the pipe, in which he smokes—not comparatively innocent tobacco—but the nerve-deadening weed called "keef." Moreover, we observe him to be a great imbiber. As he rides across the plain, proudly seated on the summit of a baggage-pack (beneath which the poor mule is scarcely visible), Achmedo may be seen to lift a bottle reverently to his lips, three times to every mile. We marveled that he could preserve his equilibrium day after day, until we discovered the nature of the contents of that bottle—cold tea, flavored with mint and sugar.
A MISTY MORNING
A word more about our invaluable Haj Abd-er-Rahman Salama, whose dusky face reflects the anxiety that fills his soul as he awaits our verdict upon the first meal prepared by him. He claimed to be himself a skillful chef, and insisted that he be allowed to manage the commissary department without interference. We reluctantly intrusted our gastronomic welfare to this homely heathen, and throughout the day visions of hard-tack and rancid bacon haunted our hungry souls. We scarcely dared to hope for better fare, furnished, as it was to be, by this cunning caterer, who has us completely in his power. He is free to starve or stuff us; no power can touch him now. If he prove faithless, we must suffer; we are his slaves for forty days; he is our master, we must go whither he leads, for we are in an unknown country; we must eat that which he provides, for we are in an empty land.