THE FLIGHT FROM TAJ 245 



As the dark stone houses disappeared swiftly into the red 

 sand and black rocks, so that, looking back after a few 

 minutes one might believe one had dreamed of the wadi 

 and its people, I wondered what price we should pay 

 for our knowledge. 



Behind the first ledge of rocks a gnome-like figure, 

 green-hooded and cloaked, rose suddenly beside a micro- 

 scopic grey donkey, while another, unrecognisably dis- 

 guised by a scarlet handkerchief which left but an eye 

 visible, appeared with a most unwilling sheep. They 

 were the commandant, Saleh Effendi, sent to accom- 

 pany us to our first camp, and a soldier to slaughter 

 the sheep in our honour. Subdued greetings were hardly 

 finished when a portly, panting figure, white jerd blow- 

 ing wildly over a dark blue jubba, turban and spectacles 

 slightly awry, hurried over the rocks. It was Sayed 

 Ahmed es Senussi come to give us a last blessing with 

 many injunctions to the guide to look after us well. 

 After the "Fatha" had been gravely repeated, he 

 clutched Yusuf's sleeve and murmured mysteriously, 

 "Will you not halt your caravan round the next gherd, 

 as I wish to send out to you food for your journey — 

 meat, bread and rice!" In a still lower voice he 

 explained that many of the friendly ekhwan had wished 

 to feast us, but had been afraid of hurting the feelings 

 of the kaimakaan, who looked upon us as his guests. 

 Arab custom ordains that when a stranger comes to a 

 town, any man who visits him afterwards sends food to 

 him or feasts him in his house. Therefore, the ekhwan 

 had been in some difficulty. Either they broke their 

 laws of hospitality or they ran counter to the generous' 

 wishes of the kaimakaan, or they failed in respect to 

 the Sayed by not visiting the guests in his house! We 

 rememlDered that the sons of Sayed Ahmed Sherif and 

 Sayed el Abed, boys between fourteen and seventeen, 



