ing so much noise that it was impossible even to think.

As we entered a semi-nude figure sprang out at us, howling, jumping, and making contortions; his only garment seemed to be a short skirt, that gave him the ludicrous appearance of a ballet dancer. The men in skins surrounded us, and amidst a deafening noise we were escorted to our seats of honor. Dusky forms had been busy making a great bonfire.

Then began a curious dance, that reminded me in a way of our North American Indian dancers and medicine men. The master of ceremonies went around in turn to each guest, and the bagpipes screeched and the tom-toms beat. Every guest gave coppers or a piece of silver to our host, and this devilish-looking man would spring high into the air, hitting his heels together several times, and spin like a tetotum. He improvised original songs, praising his various guests and their liberality. Judging from the eager expression of the spectators, the words of these songs must have been witty.

At last the noise of the bagpipes ceased, to be taken up by flageolets in a minor key. A row of young women and girls, with long hair falling down their back, had crept in, unnoticed in the dark, and taken up their position between us and the bonfire, so that they stood out like black silhouettes against the flame; all were unveiled. Slowly and gracefully they began to sway and twist their lithe bodies in rhythm to the weird music. Most of the time they danced on their knees, bending and twisting, their hair sometimes standing out almost straight, then falling about their heads.

It was the far-famed "Dance of the Hair," that few foreigners have ever seen. Toward the end of the dance the bonfire of esparto grass was allowed to grow dim, and the women vanished into the night, for clouds had obscured the

I was curious to see the fiancé and kept asking Brebisch to point him out to me.. About the time the "Dance of the Hair" began a dear little boy, not quite four years old (a son of the devil-man), had come over and snuggled close up to me.

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He was so tired that he fell asleep, but when the bonfire died down he awakened and scampered over to the women, and vanished with them. This small boy was the future bridegroom, and his two-anda-half-year old fiancée, called Machla, which means "The Palm Tree," lived many miles away and could not be present at the "Dance of the Hair" on their betrothal.

OUR ADVENTURE WITH ALI, THE

FINANCIER

On our arrival toward dusk at Foumtatahouine, when my luggage had been taken out of the two-wheeled cart and placed in the house the Cadhi had put at my disposal, I told Ali to go to the fonduk (Arab inn) and curry the mule, give it plenty to eat and water it four hours later. He was to spend all his time looking after that mule, for which I felt

great responsibility. The Caid of Medenine had lent it to me, no other animal being available, and it was his pet mule. In certain parts of the Orient a fine mule is preferred to a horse, and costs much more. It lives longer and can pull almost three times as much.

Ali was a worker, Ali was a hustler, Ali was a financier, and he loved animals and took splendid care of his master's mule. After 48 hours' rest, I told Ali to return to Medenine with the cart and mule.

On my arrival at Foumtatahouine I had told Ali, "You see to the mule and will pay for its stabling and food. I do not wish the Cadhi to pay one centime.'

Ali smiled and showed his white teeth and said, "Oui, Monsieur," in his broken Arab-French,

The Cadhi said, "Now, Ali, Monsieur is my guest and I want to pay for the fodder of his mule."

Ali answered, "So be it, Sheik Cadhi." When Ali arrived in due time at Medenine, he had carried a Maribout and his son from Foumtatahouine to Bir-El-Ahmar (the Red Well), and received three francs for that and a free lunch.

On his arrival home he said to his master, "O noble Caid, I took the stranger,