180 THE SECRET OF SAHARA: KUFARA 



half a dozen Zouias seated round our zariba, but none of 

 them moved. I began to understand the sufferings of 

 Rohlfs when I looked at the cruel, anaemic faces of these 

 Arabs. Brave they may be, but they had not the keen, 

 fierce looks of the warrior Beduin. They had small, 

 cunning eyes that shifted restlessly, long, mean faces with 

 thin hps and generally a fretful scowl between the brows. 

 The Zouias are known as a bad tribe and these people 

 certainly looked untrustworthy to the last degree. When 

 we offered a bribe of tea and sugar one of them got up 

 to accompany us, but none of the soldiers would come. 

 Mora j a and Abdul Rahim hid in their tent and Yusuf 

 said he was lame. We were just starting off alone when 

 Mohammed sprang up and slung on his gun. "They 

 are a pair of eagles!" he exclaimed. "I will not be less 

 brave than they." After we had gone a few hundred 

 yards there was a soft thud-thudding in the sand behind, 

 and the big Farraj, who had become our sort of personal 

 slave, together with the corporal, silently joined us. 



Our progress, however, was almost instantly stopped 

 by a band of young men and boys rushing wildly after us. 

 "Do not walk! Do not walk!" they yelled, and pointed 

 to a large group of white-clad Arabs marching rapidly 

 towards us. We turned to meet them. "For God's 

 sake do not go!" said Mohammed. "There is bad work 

 here. I do not understand it. Let us go back to the 

 camp!" He followed gamely, however. The Arabs 

 were all armed and they looked very angry, for they were 

 gesticulating and talking in loud voices. I always wore 

 my revolvers underneath my hezaam. I managed to get 

 them out under the folds of my barracan and wondered 

 with an odd, fierce pleasure how many shots I could get 

 in. The corporal pretended to busy himself with the 

 donkey, but our Farraj came on, his rifle ready. The 

 Zouias surrounded us, a wild, threatening group. "You 



