202 THE LION KILLER. 



I was invited to rest under a tent that was immediately 

 filled with visitors. At first, I thought this ceremony was an 

 act of politeness, but it was not long before I found that they 

 were all ridiculing me and my pretensions. I was beginning 

 to learn and understand the language, and I heard several 

 times the Arab word, medjenoun, crazy, uttered by the old 

 men of the village. 



I did not attempt to prove to them that I was in possession 

 of all my faculties, but after a short repast, requested the 

 services of a guide to point out to me the haunt of the 

 lion. 



A sort of Hercules who all the while I had been in the 

 tent, had been stretched out in front of me with his chin 

 resting on his two hands, and his eyes fixed on mine, bounded 

 to his feet, and lifting up the curtain of the tent so as to 

 show me the interior of the douar, said, in an angry tone : 



" It is here that he comes at night, in the midst of the 

 men who are speaking to you. Is this a beard that I hold 

 in my hands V* he exclaimed, seizing his own with both 

 hands ; " Is this a man's arm V throwing back the sleeve of 

 his robe to his shoulder ; " do you take us all for women, 

 you who come here and ask us to lead you to the lion when 

 he nightly comes to us to eat our substance, and we let him 

 do it ? Look here — the day you kill the lion, this beard of 

 mine will fall to the ground, and I will turn and be your 

 servant." 



After this speech, at once curious and comical, the brave 

 fellow not being able to contain himself longer, and not 

 wanting to violate any of the laws of Arab hospitality, 



