Ropes
and palmetto baskets refused to fit at the last moment, two mules were
restive until their "father," the Maalem, very wide awake and energetic,
cursed their religion, and reminded them that they were the children of
asses renowned throughout the Moghreb for baseness and immorality. One
animal was found at the last moment to be saddle-galled, and was rejected
summarily, despite its "father's" frenzied assurances. Though I had been
astir shortly before three, and at work soon after four, it was nearly
seven o'clock when the last crooked way had been made straight, the last
shwarri[10] balanced, and the luggage mules were moving to the Dukala
gate.
The crowd of curious onlookers then gave way, some few wishing us well on
the journey. I daresay there were many among them, tied by their daily
toil to the town, who thought with longing of the pleasant road before us,
through fertile lands where all the orchards were aflower and the peasants
were gathering the ripe barley, though April had yet some days to revel
in. Small boys waved their hands to us, the water-carrier carrying his
tight goat-skin from the wells set his cups a-tinkling, as though by way
of a God-speed, and then M'Barak touched his horse with the spur to induce
the bravery of a caracole, and led us away from Djedida.
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