Under the circumstances, and though I had
found reason to believe that they were lazy, feckless rogues enough, who
really needed an iron-handed kaid to rule over them, I told Salam to pass
word round that their wants would be supplied at the day's end. Then they
picked up their old stride, and one by one resumed the love-songs of
yesterday as we moved slowly over the plains to where, in the far
distance, Sidi el Muktar stood between us and the fast setting sun, placed
near to the junction of three provinces--Oulad bou Sba, through which we
travelled, M'touga, famous for fleet horses, and Shiadma, where our road
lay.
But we were to find no rest in the shade of Sidi el Muktar's stately
zowia. The "Sons of Lions" had raided the place on the previous day,
hoping to terminate alike the rule and the existence of a kaid whose hand
had rested too heavily upon them. Some friend of the kaid having given him
due notice of the raiders' intentions--treachery is a painfully common
feature of these forays--he had been well prepared to meet these godless
men. Powder had spoken, and was to speak again, for the kaid, having
driven off the raiders, was going to carry war into the enemy's country,
and was busy preparing to start on the morrow at daybreak.
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