When Muirhead returned, I beat an orderly retreat, to ‘déjeuner.’ He too had had his trials, being quite baffled by the strong wind, which swept over the crest where Uncle Zaïd’s kouba stands.
When painting under my umbrella, I found the cattle of Kabylia even more timid than the fair sex. The cows are small but nimble, the unusual appearance of a European is sufficient to scare them, and the umbrella added was altogether too much for their nerves; they would canter off gaily, to the consternation of the herdsmen, shortly reappearing in order to eye me warily. I stood as close as possible against the bank, keeping quiet, when suddenly there was a rush, and the cows scampered by in wild alarm at the frightful object. Instead of scowling and muttering curses, as I expected and considered my due, the cowherd always stopped and greeted me in friendly fashion, sometimes pressing upon me a handful of figs, as though I had done him a favour. Perhaps he thought that friendly demeanour made amends for the ridiculous behaviour of his animals. At first I regretted causing all this trouble, and tried to express myself to that effect; after a time, discovering that they did not consider me to be a more obnoxious animal than the gadflies, which abound, I continued to paint with equanimity, glad to be looked upon as a natural evil.
After ‘déjeuner,’ two Fathers and a number of Kabyles paid us a visit. There were complaints of our tent being pitched close to the road where the women were obliged to pass; and words began to flow apace.
The Amine of Ouarzin (or the Ogre) having given us permission to camp there, the Ogres had nothing to say, but the people of the larger village of Taourirt en Taïdith (the Mount of the Dog) doggedly objected. They offered even to level a piece of ground, and transport our tent and luggage free of expense, if we would only move from the road. Through the good words and banter of the Fathers, ‘the Dogs’ at last left off barking, smiles took the place of frowns, ruffled feelings were composed, and a compromise effected. We remained on the conditions that we would leave the lane free between the hours of ten and four; and that we would send a native lad to the fountain in place of Dominique, who was to go no more at all, either to draw water or wash clothes, except at a little-used spring pointed out; to our dismay, a mere duckweed-covered puddle. So the storm was lulled.
Friday, April 16, 1880.—I awoke, hearing the lively chatter of women. What a chirping there was! They spoke in a very high pitch of voice, and the language, as pronounced by them, sounded very different to that of the men. I peeped as discreetly as I could out of the tent, and behold! the lane was thronged; there were scores of them going to and fro, each with a pitcher on her head.
Alas! for the weather. The sirocco had been succeeded by a cold wind from the north, and the air was full of fog, it rained all day, and resembled more the climate of the Highlands of Scotland than what we anticipated the climate of North Africa would be.
We occupied ourselves with letter writing, reading, and trying to learn Kabyle, making persistent and comical attempts at conversation with natives who came to visit us; they were most inquisitive, but well-mannered, and anxious to talk. School hours over, the lads came to see us, pleased to air their stock of French, and equally eager to teach us words in Kabyle; this was just what we wanted, and we were soon excellent friends.
Saturday, April 17, 1880.—To-day proved more spring-like. I remained unmolested in the lane, whilst Muirhead went off to the Kouba. Uncle Zaïd always behaved to Muirhead as an uncle should, presenting him every day with clotted milk, hard-boiled eggs, cakes and figs; he always refused payment, shook his head, smiled blandly, pointed upwards with his forefinger, turned up his eyes, and ejaculated ‘Errebbi, Errebbi!’ (God, God!) to indicate that he acted thus merely to please the Almighty; let us hope that he behaves as well to all poor folk who cross his picturesque hill. We retaliated by giving dinner to his son and grandson, who came once or twice to the tent; but the little chapel received no donation from us. We continued our painting also at Thililit, and Thililit vied with Ouarzin and Taourirt in hospitality to the stranger. The Amine, a fine-looking man, with an agreeable countenance, offered us a kouskous. We feared it would be hopelessly cold before arriving at the tent; but it was so well wrapped up, that after a mile long journey it remained hot. To-day the Kaïd, or President of the Aïth Ménguellath, came over from Fort National on business. He called during our absence, and left a message with Dominique, that if the natives annoyed us, we were to complain to him. After this, we went where we would without interference.
SOWING.