And here we remain unmolested day after day, while the headmen of
the Mediunah tribe discuss with perfect tranquillity the future of the
Pretender's rebellion, or allude cheerfully to the time when, the Jehad
(Holy War) being proclaimed, the Moslems will be permitted to cut the
throats of all the Unbelievers who trouble the Moghreb. In the fatalism of
our neighbours lies our safety. If Allah so wills, never a Nazarene will
escape the more painful road to eternal fire; if it is written otherwise,
Nazarene torment will be posthumous. They do not know, nor, in times when
the land is preparing for early harvest, do they greatly care, what or
when the end may be. Your wise Moor waits to gather in his corn and see it
safely hoarded in the clay-lined and covered pits called mat'moras. That
work over, he is ready and willing, nay, he is even anxious, to fight, and
if no cause of quarrel is to be found he will make one.
[Illustration: HEAD OF A BOY FROM MEDIUNA]
Every year or two a party of travellers settles on this plateau, says
the headman of Mediunah. From him I hear of a fellow writer from England
who was camped here six years ago.[5] Travellers stay sometimes for three
or four days, sometimes for as many weeks, and he has been told by men who
have come many miles from distant markets, that the Nazarenes are to be
found here and there throughout the Moroccan highlands towards the close
of the season of the winter rains.
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