Hanchen retired within its boundaries, rich in the
proceeds of the sale of fodder, which had been in great demand throughout
the day. Small companies of boys roamed over the market-place, seeking to
snap up any trifles that had been left behind, just as English boys will
at the Crystal Palace or Alexandra Park, after a firework display. The
Moorish youngsters had even less luck than their English brethren, for in
Morocco, where life is simple and men need and have little, everything has
its use, and a native throws nothing away. The dogs, eager to forestall
the vultures, were still fighting among themselves for the offal left
by the butcher, when the villagers, who had come to take a late cup of tea
with Salam and M'Barak, resumed their slippers, testified to the Unity of
Allah, and turned to ascend Hanchen's steep hill.
Among the stories circulated in the Tuesday market was one to the effect
that a lion had come down from the Atlas, and after taking toll of the
cattle belonging to the douars on its road, had been shot at the western
end of the forest. This tale was told with so much circumstance that it
seemed worth inquiry, and I found in Mogador that a great beast had indeed
come from the hills and wrought considerable harm; but it was a leopard,
not a lion.
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