From that moment they made ready for war. Skirmishing would begin; the marabouts, or priests, would then enter the field as conciliators, but as they knew from experience that by reasoning they would not succeed in extinguishing animosity, they tried to calm matters by making conditions, such as, that they should not fight at night, or that on such and such days fighting should be suspended. However, if one of the parties was greatly irritated by losses or insults, the voice of the marabouts was not listened to, and matters often became very serious; they would attack day or night at any hour, all communication was interrupted, they dug trenches, houses were burned, trees cut down, and, in short, they did all the harm they could. In the ordinary way the warriors of both sides betook themselves to the spot set apart by custom for finishing quarrels, and there fought in the manner of sharpshooters. Each combatant sought to approach as near as possible, gliding from bush to bush; and when within easy range, his gun resting on the branch of a tree, or a stone, he would fire and then retire without troubling to see if he had hit.
When two Kabyles fight without weapons, they claw like wild cats, a disgusting way of fighting. Once during my stay in the tribe of the Zouardia, two men, close to where I was painting, began to fight about a boundary. A herdsman had driven his cows on to a pasture which he believed to be communal property; another man, meeting him, told him to walk off, because he himself only had a right over the land, having rented it of the commune. They forthwith began mauling and clawing at each other’s faces; matters were becoming serious, and I had just sharpened my pencil to try and sketch them, when a third party at work near, separated them; they calmed down almost immediately, each rather pleased with himself at having shown that he was game to fight. On coming up to me, I tried to explain that in England men fought with the fist; thereupon they grinned good-naturedly. I have been shown an iron claw that is sometimes worn on the hand when fighting, a very nasty and dangerous weapon, answering to the American knuckleduster. The wagmuck, an iron claw fixed upon the hand, is an historical weapon of the Deccan. Sivajee, the founder of the Maharatta Empire, murdered Afzul Khan with it—an incident introduced by Colonel Meadows Taylor into his novel of Tara.
So on the confines of adjoining grounds,
Two stubborn swains, with blows, dispute their bounds;
They tug, they sweat: but neither gain, nor yield
One foot, one inch, of the contended field.
All the world has heard of the fighting qualities of the Kabyles under the name of Turcos. I have often talked with natives who took part in the Franco-German war, who have recounted to me their experiences of Sedan, their long journey into Germany, and how they nearly died of cold.
Though each mountain extends over a large area, the summit is very limited; this is especially the case in the tribe of the Aïth Ménguellath. In the afternoon we took a walk of exploration down the backbone of our mountain, we had gone but a few minutes, when we faced an eminence covered with clustered houses, and a short distance beyond was a second village-crowned knoll. A curious effect was caused by the shadows of trees cast in straight lines downwards upon the corn-covered slope, looking like reflections in a liquid sea of green, the extraordinary freshness of the colouring was heightened by the deep blue ranges beyond. Farther, we came upon an open space covered with tombs and evergreens.
At one end of this cemetery was a little white Kouba, or chapel, built over the tomb of a celebrated marabout, with coloured tiles round the doorway. It was shaded by a group of oaks, while on one side we caught a peep of the village set on the hill; one of these trees, which overhangs the path, has a quantity of little dirty bits of rag tied to the branches by women. It is not uncommon to come across some insignificant-looking bush covered with tatters; sometimes alongside is a niche made for a lamp, where simple offerings, such as a few handfuls of figs, are left. Certainly the bits of rag cannot be called offerings; they are left in recognition of the holy man buried there, equivalent to leaving a card in passing, an act at which no offence can possibly be taken, and which perchance may be regarded by the deceased as a pleasing attention. Hard by lives a marabout known to the people as Uncle Zaïd, an old man who looks after the chapel, and does a great deal of praying. We now found ourselves upon a grassy space, where shepherds pasturing their flocks were sitting under the shade of ilexes. Before us rose a steep ascent, crowded with a mass of lichened tombstones, of a beautiful warm grey; and growing among them were ilexes, corks, and figs trained into leafy canopies above the graves, and pomegranates crimson with budding leaves. The hill was crowned by Thililit. Skirting the cemetery was a path among rocks, up and down which charming groups of women and girls, with pitchers on their heads, passed to and fro from the fountain; unfortunately they were timid as deer, and on seeing us, fled in a scared way behind the shelter of trees, from which they peeped out spying, till we had passed. We walked through Thililit, and the path continued with equal interest beyond. Passing a little plateau, we arrived at the second village, that we had seen at a distance appearing above the first; this was Aourir-Amer-ou-Zaïd. The ridge continued in a straight line half a mile further, and led to Iril Boghni, but we postponed a visit thither. We felt that another walk in this direction was imperative, if it were only for a chance of catching sight of a girl who was talking merrily with her neighbours at the door of her house in the village of Amer-ou-Zaïd. She certainly was the most beautiful girl we met in the country, rich-complexioned, dark-eyed, with handsome features, and a supple graceful figure. Alas! we never saw her again. ‘O maiden with delicate features, thou resemblest Stamboul, for thou hast many admirers.’
