The little man is master of every turn in the road, and has only failed
once--when he brought us to a large village, where the bulk of the
inhabitants of outlying douars had attacked the Governor's house, with
very little success, on the previous day, and were now about to be
attacked in their turn by the Governor and his bodyguard. There had been
much firing and more shouting, but nobody was badly hurt. Prudence
demanded that the journey be resumed forthwith, and for three hours the
Maalem kept his eyes upon the stars and cursed the disturbers of the
land's peace. Then we reached the desired haven, and passed unscathed
through the attacks of the native dogs that guarded its approaches.
The procedure when we approach a n'zala in the evening is highly
interesting. Some aged headman, who has seen our little company
approaching, stands by the edge of the road and declares we are
welcome.[12] Salam or the Maalem responds and presents me, a traveller
from the far country of the Ingliz, carrying letters to the great sheikhs
of the South. The headman repeats his welcome and is closely questioned
concerning the existing supplies of water, corn, milk, eggs, and poultry.
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