544 



THK NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE 



MARKET PLACE AT TOZ^R 



chiefly of brown clumps of the grass 

 called ''alfa" or "esparto," the long tough 

 leaves of which are pulled by hand and 

 shipped in bales to Europe for making 

 baskets, straw hats, and paper of fine 

 quality. 



After spending the night at Gafsa, I 

 was up betimes and took an early train 

 to Metlaoui, the terminus of the railway. 

 Here I was met by two Arab boys with 

 donkeys sent by the Controleur Civil 

 from Tozer, the chief town of the Jerid. 

 A discharged soldier, returning to his 

 oasis home at the expiration of his service 

 in a regiment of "spahis" — the Franco- 

 Tunisian cavalry— invited himself to join 

 our company. It was a 35-mile ride over 

 the desert from Metlaoui to Tozer. 



Although late in October, the heat was 

 intense. The road — a mere track and 

 hardly distinguishable — followed part 

 way the stony bed of a dry "oued," and 

 then struck out across the desert. Over- 

 head was the cloudless sky, underfoot 

 the blazing sand, and around us the 

 sharp forms of desert mountains, devoid 

 of soil and trees. At midday we lunched 

 in the scanty shade afforded by the mud 



brick walls of a little ''bordj," a walled 

 enclosure where travelers may encamp 

 and, if need be, defend themselves 

 against marauders. 



The Arabs, who had hitherto beguiled 

 the way with gutteral chatter and laugh- 

 ter and occasionally with a nasal chant- 

 ing that kept time to the jog trot of the 

 donkeys, were silent during the long, hot 

 afternoon. Towards evening the air 

 freshened and our tired animals quick- 

 ened their steps. Alighting for a moment, 

 Yusuf ben Mohamed, the ex-spahi, ad- 

 justed his fez with the aid of a pocket 

 looking glass. Then, taking from his 

 wallet a sash of crimson silk and giving 

 one end of it to the donkey boy, he 

 turned round and round until it was 

 neatly wrapped in many folds about his 

 waist. We were evidently nearing the 

 end of our journey. 



A few minutes later we paused on the 

 brink of a deep ravine and saw before 

 us — sharp and black against the red even- 

 ing sky — a long fringed line of palm 

 crowns. It was the oasis of El Hamma, 

 the first of the Beled el Jerid. We skirted 

 a corner of this oasis, passed through its 



