Sheep are but a poor prey, and more troublesome than profitable. They walk slowly, and it is impossible to drive them far enough away by the day after the theft. The Arabs, therefore, content themselves with stealing from an enemy, in his absence, to feed themselves while lying in ambush. Nevertheless, the opportunity is sometimes tempting. A flock is seen grazing at a distance from the douars. The shepherd is lying down, asleep, or in some other way occupied. It is yet early morning, and there is time to cover a considerable distance before sunset, when the flocks are driven home, and the theft is likely to be discovered. Sometimes, therefore, they risk the hazard. Striking the negligent shepherd a heavy blow on the head with a stick, they throw dust into his eyes, and, tying his hands behind him, draw over his face the hood of his burnous. The robbers then share with one another the task of driving off the flock, broken up into small sections, each taking a separate course, and going slowly at first, but after a while quickening their pace. On the morrow, after traversing none but lonely paths, they meet again at an appointed spot. In an affair of this kind they take the shepherd with them, and set him free only in the middle of the night, when they have nothing more to fear from him.
WAR BETWEEN DESERT TRIBES.
A caravan has been plundered—the women of the tribe have been insulted—the right of water and pasturage has been disputed. These are wrongs which no razzia, not even the terrible tehha, can sufficiently avenge. The chiefs, therefore, assemble and decide upon war. Then they write to the chiefs of all their allied tribes, and claim their aid. The allies are loyal and faithful—are they not also enemies of the tribe to be chastised? Have they not the same sympathies, the same interests, as those who summon them? Are they not an integral part of the confederation? Not a single tribe will refuse to send a contingent in proportion to its importance. But the allies are distant. They cannot arrive within a week or ten days, and in the meantime counsels are taken, and the passion of the warriors excited by the proclamations of the chiefs:—
"You are warned, O servants of Allah! that we have to exact vengeance from such a tribe that has offered us such or such an insult. Shoe your horses. Supply yourselves with provisions for a fortnight. Forget not the wheat, the barley, the dried meat, and the butter. You must provide not only for your own wants, but also that you may be able to afford a generous hospitality to the horsemen of such and such tribes that are coming to our assistance. Command your prettiest women to hold themselves in readiness to accompany us, and to array themselves in their finest garments, and adorn their camels and litters to the utmost of their power. Do you yourselves also put on your handsomest dresses, for with us it is a matter of nif [self-love]. Keep your arms in good condition. Supply yourselves with powder, and be assembled on such a day at such a spot. The horseman who owns a mare and does not come, the foot-soldier who possesses a gun and stays at home, shall be fined, the former twenty ewes and the latter ten."
Every able-bodied man, though he should have to go on foot, is bound to join in the expedition. Before setting out, the chiefs confide the flocks, tents, and baggage of the tribe to the care of experienced veterans, who are likewise charged to exercise a sort of police supervision over this assembly of women, children, invalids, and shepherds.
The enemy, on their part, likewise make their preparations. Warned by travellers, by friends, and even by relatives whom they claim in the opposite party, they hasten to write in all directions to assemble their allies. Their flocks, tents, and baggage they place in a secure spot, and then assign a rendez-vous to the horsemen with the least possible delay. To guard against a surprise, they select a position suitable for defence, and await whatever may happen. They have not long to wait. The tribe that has taken up arms to avenge itself is very soon on the march, for it has not lost a single moment. On the evening before their departure, all the auxiliary chiefs join those who have summoned them, and, in the presence of the marabouts, take the following oath on the sacred book of Sidi Abd-Allah:—
"O friends! let us swear by the truth of the sacred book of Sidi Abd-Allah that we are brothers, that all our guns shall be as one, and that, in dying, we will all die by the same sabre. If you call us by day, we will come by day, and if you summon us by night, we will hasten to you by night."
Having taken this oath, they arrange to start on the following morning. At the appointed hour a man of high birth, noble among the noblest, mounts on horseback, orders his women, borne on camels, to follow him, and gives the signal. There is a general movement, and all set out. The eye is dazzled by the strange and picturesque confusion, the many-hued crowd of horses, warriors, and camels bearing rich palanquins in which the women are inclosed. Here are the foot-soldiers, who march by themselves—there the horsemen, who superintend the female procession. Others, again, more impetuous and thoughtless, dash on in front or spread out on the flanks, but rather as hunters than as scouts, and with their greyhounds run down the gazelle, the hare, the antelope, and the ostrich. The chiefs, however, are more serious. Upon their shoulders rests the whole responsibility. To them will accrue the largest share of the plunder, if the expedition succeed; and upon them, also, in the event of failure, will fall imprecations, ruin, and shame. They, therefore, consult together and form their plans. Lastly, come the camels that carry the supplies. Thus the host advances, adapting itself to the irregularities of the ground, all in wild confusion, every one noisy and joyous, thinking much of the adventure, nothing of the fatigue, dreaming of glory, not of danger. The warriors relate their former exploits, while the players on the flute accompany them, inspiriting or interrupting them, and the women utter joyful cries. And above all this uproar are heard the loud reports of fire-arms. The firing ceases, and a young and handsome horseman strikes up one of those love-songs, through which the ardour of their passion scatters strange images and striking colours, and which, in the desert, have always a fresh charm for these chivalrous nations.
My heart burns with fire