A JOURNEY IN MOROCCO 763 
At about 10 o’clock of the sec- 
ond day we began to ascend the 
“Red Mountains,” so called part- 
ly on account of the color of the 
soil and partly, we were told, by 
reason of the amount of blood 
that has been shed here. On 
approaching these mountains we 
could not, as usual, ride with 
Jelalli and the soldier ahead of 
our caravan, but were compelled 
to keep together for mutual pro- 
tection. No caravan dares pass 
here after nightfall, for it would 
be most certainly set upon. Near 
the summit we passed a band of 
wild-looking men, armed with 
the long Moroccan rifles, who 
are stationed here by the Pasha 
for the protection of travelers, 
but who, according to Jelalli, 
plunder on their own account 
when darkness sets in. 
We now began passing pictur- 
esque caravans of camels, horses, 
or mules bringing silks, fruits, 
eggs, chickens, etc., from the in- 
terior. The chickens were trans- 
ported in what looked like long bar- 
rels without tops or bottoms, slung on 
either side of the animal, the ends being 
closed by netting. When one of the cara- 
vans stopped, the almost barren plain pre- 
sented a strange appearance, dotted over 
with these barrels, each surrounded by 
its hungry flock of feeding chickens, 
which showed no inclination to desert 
their own barrel. 
Whenever a caravan of camels camped 
near us, we could not resist visiting it in 
order to fathom, if possible, the mystery 
of this strange animal’s ability to placidly 
devour the cactus plants, with which the 
whole country is covered. These plants 
have thorns on them as strong and sharp 
as large needles and will easily pierce 
shoe leather, and yet these beasts will 
bite off a great thorn-covered piece of 
one of these terrible plants and chew it 
as sedately as though it were but. bran. 
The operation over, I always felt like 
taking off my hat to the “ship of the 
desert.” 
Photo by George E. Holt 
SELLER 
A CANDY 
Just before sunset on the third day we 
came in sight of Alcazar, nestled away 
among its groves of olives, oranges, and 
lemons. ‘The whiteness of its houses, 
gleaming amid the green girdle of ver- 
dure, with here and there a minaret or 
tall palm to break their flatness, was rest- 
ful to our eyes after a three-days’ ride 
across treeless mountains and _ plains. 
Our camp was pitched close to the town, 
and we soon received an invitation to take 
tea with one of the more prosperous citi- 
zens. Our host tasted each cup of tea 
before passing it to us. Arab etiquette 
also compels one to make as much noise 
as possible in sipping the tea, so that our 
party soon sounded like several horses 
trying to drink in too shallow water. 
Here also we were treated (?) to butter, 
said to be ten years’ old, but we agreed 
that it tasted a thousand. On the next 
day we received as a present a great 
steaming bowl of “kous-kous,’ one of 
the best known as well as best tasting 
Arab dishes. It is composed of pieces 
