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The National Geographic Magazine 



skaff, or dried reeds, the only roofing of 

 the houses, offered but poor security 

 should he leave so much coin stored in a 

 village where he himself was but a tran- 

 sient sojourner. 



To the great amusement of Mulai Ali, 

 and to my own considerable astonish- 

 ment, the solution of this troublesome 

 question which Raisuli proposed was 

 that "La Senora," as the natives called my 

 wife, should receive the seventy thousand 

 dollars from Torres and deposit the 

 money to her own credit in Tangier at 

 the bank where we were accustomed to 

 cash our checks, and that he, Raisuli, 

 might then draw upon Mrs. Perdicaris 

 as occasion should require. 



I, however, entirely declined to request 

 my wife to accede to this singular pro- 

 posal, and when I explained to Raisuli 

 the suspicions to which such an arrange- 

 ment might expose us, he at once said 

 that he would be the last to wish to place 

 us in such a position. 



It was finally arranged that the 

 younger of our Wazani friends should 

 bring to a certain village half way be- 

 tween Tangier and Tsarradan twenty 

 thousand dollars in silver and the remain- 

 ing fifty thousand in certified checks on 

 the Comptoir d'Escompte, the French 

 bank at Tangier, together with the pris- 

 oners whose release Raisuli had de- 

 manded, and that our captor should ac- 

 company us to this village, of which the 

 Sheik, El Zellal, was one of his adher- 

 ents. These negotiations occupied some 

 time and led to many iourneys of Sid 

 Hassan back and forth from Tangier to 

 Tsarradan. 



After six weeks, and on the evening 

 preceding our departure, we strolled from 

 the village green with Mulai Ali; nor 

 were we now, as had always hitherto, 

 been the case, accompanied by any of 

 Raisuli's men. During our walk we fell 

 into conversation with a native from an- 

 other village, and who made some allu- 

 sion to two unfortunate Spanish children, 

 for the boy at least was but a child, 



though his sister was fifteen. This 

 brother and sister, the children of a poor 

 charcoal-burner, had been stolen about 

 two years prior to our own adventure, 

 nor had they been recovered, despite the 

 pressure exerted by the Spanish authori- 

 ties at Tangier. 



We now learned to our horror that 

 these unfortunate children had been car- 

 ried off by the very man in whose hut we 

 had spent so many sad hours, and that 

 they had not only occupied the very room 

 where I slept, but that after a long deten- 

 tion they had been ultimately killed in the 

 garden and were buried not far from 

 where our horses were tethered. This 

 discovery showed the lawless character 

 of these Berber followers of Raisuli, and 

 also that we ourselves had been in more 

 danger than we realized, had any mis- 

 hap to Raisuli occurred while we were 

 among these savages, for such these 

 Berbers really are, possessing neither a 

 written language nor any of those ele- 

 ments of culture or refinement which al- 

 most every other white race boasts. 



I confess that during this our last night 

 in that wretched hut, the scene of the 

 sufferings and humiliations of those un- 

 fortunate Spanish captives, I scarcely 

 closed my eyes. 



OUR RETURN 



The next morning it was still dark 

 when our men began loading the pack- 

 mules, and we reached the crest of the 

 mountain, which lay between us and 

 Tangier, just as the sun rose. Never have 

 I anywhere witnessed a scene of more 

 wild and fantastic charm. A slight mist 

 hung about the base of the rocks, whose 

 peaks and turrets were now flecked with 

 crimson or lilac, now shaded with purple, 

 by some passing cloud. 



On our left rode Mulai Ali, arrayed in 

 a silk bournous of spotless white, fol-' 

 lowed by all his men, while on my right 

 Raisuli bestrode his gray charger. The 

 dark, thick cords of twisted camel's hair 

 crossed about his white turban, and the 



