spicuous in the transparent atmosphere, indicating the situation of the Spanish camp at Zargeia. Two aeroplanes drone far in the sky. The prospect is restful to a degree, and an occasional distant rumble of gun-fire hardly disturbs the serene calm of the African afternoon.

The sun slants across lowlands far away to the west, and overhead the sky is deepest blue. Golden beams penetrating the half-transparent foliage, make wonderful inter-play of light and shade among the hollows. The earth is red, and the vegetation vivid green and gold. Homesteads and orangegroves are being left behind, and we have dismounted to pick our way on foot among swamp and bush, enclosed by a company of light-hearted soldiers on their way to relieve sections in the field. A fine type of mountaineer is in command, and walks between us; while the pace is so good that mule-drivers, following on, are obliged to beat their charges into a half amble to keep up.

After sixteen years of war, these men are glad to be going up the line, and to them it appears that their liberty is already won. They are unable to give credence to the idea of a strategic retreat. Their talk is concerned almost exclusively with enemy positions that have been taken by surprise, with defence lines driven in and capiemento surrounded by bombing parties in the night, so that crowning

almost every little hill is a mass of stones, or fragments of broken wall, witness to the fate of a fortified post. Every one of our companions has been concerned in such assaults, in which the tribesmen particularly excel, slinging their grenades from a distance, or creeping close up to drop them through the loopholes of the fort. One young man is already regarded as a veteran, having been present in front of Melilla four years ago, when an entire Spanish army was entrapped and destroyed. Among the group there is another who speaks with intimate knowledge of the enemy, having in boyhood spent some time in Madrid. In spite of their pride, he has encountered most agreeable people among the Spaniards, and will hear nothing derogatory to their honour. He has a clear recollection of seeing the Guard changed in the courtyard of the palace, and freely admits the superiority of Spanish ceremonial, though he does not consider that such a fine system of training particularly fits their troops for fighting. also in the company a sternfaced Moor, whose household has been destroyed by a gasshell, a man who is sworn to wage war without pity. His ways are rough, and he speaks seldom, but twice I am indebted to his experienced eye and steadier foothold on slippery rock, which enable me to avoid total immersion in wads that lie in the path.

There is

Our new friends offer fresh oranges to suck as we stride together over tussocks of scrub. Their lightness of heart is very infectious, and for a time war in the Riff seems an agreeable relaxation.

So the band goes lightly across verdant ridges, drawing continually nearer to Zargeia, until her tents are dazzlingly close in the sun, and men can be distinguished moving between them. In the effort of surmounting endless crests that are like the petrified waves of an ocean, and perhaps a little apprehensive concerning the tents so near ahead, one has to some extent lost count of non-essentials. Now a crowing cock recalls me to the consciousness of my immediate surroundings; and with a thrill of surprise I am become aware of a strange accession of strength to our company, which no longer consists exclusively of armed men on their way up the line.

For there are about us persons of both sexes and every age-children and nimble-footed old men and women. A surging throng scattered over the wide plain, strings of women stooping beneath heavy bundles, appearing and disappearing, making marvellous colour in the late sunlight; mothers with babies on their backs, often driving goats in front of them; processions of boys and girls, with kids whose muzzles are bound up, apparently to stop their bleating; children carrying poultry in their arms, like

charge of mules loaded with farm produce; and everywhere soldiers urging them on, helping the feeble over rough places and through wads, maintaining order among the children while they crack light jokes with their elders.

The Fondyk is falling away behind, and the chain of hills sinking to nothing on the right. We are lost in a world of ridges whose tops are bathed in golden sunshine, while cool shadows already steal along the dingles between.

As we proceed the multitude is becoming very quiet, and only at rare intervals does the muffled cry of some creature break on the ear. A subdued bleat, or again the crowing of a cock. There are no other sounds as they push continually over hillocks, and up and down little ravines, surmounting every obstacle, flowing steadily forward like a rising tide, surging over eminences and filling in depressions. The chatter among the group of soldiers immediately around has died away, and the plain is filled with a speechless moving throng, advancing continually westward.

From somewhere not far off the report of a rifle breaks the spell, several shots following in rapid succession. Instantly they have all vanished. Endless hill-tops appear without an indication of life in the level sunshine, while a solitary eagle circles an immense distance overhead.

Yet they are all close by, whispering together in the hollows, occasionally peeping with infinite precaution between thick bushes at the lines of gleaming tents, by this time under a mile away. In the ravines, women have deposited their baskets of vegetables on the mud, while they feed their babies, or rearrange their clothing. Children dabble in pools, or munch bread and figs. The little valleys are so numerous and intricate, that it is possible to pass about fairly freely among this strangest of assemblies, without ever exposing oneself on a ridge. Here are grave merchants with Assyrian beards, and a professional storyteller surrounded by hopeful children, as he rests on a flat stone; here is a Susi tribesman with his cloak of shaggy brown goat-skin, and here is a snake charmer examining the occupants of his boxes, lifting them out, while they wind themselves themselves lasciviously about arms and neck. Here are women refreshing their feet in the little wads where children play; also a coal-black juggler from the Soudan toying with the mysterious implements of his profession. Mendicants with horrible malformations are moving about with surprising agility. There are also young women and girls so completely veiled in white drapery that only their eyes and toes are visible. As the minutes slip by, without a repetition of the shooting, a light murmur of talk fills the air. The story

teller is surrounded by a growing crowd. Now that the sun has gone, increasing twilight gives a touch of unearthliness to the spectacle. A fresh start is made in gathering shadows; men, with their rifles at full cock, moving ahead, and on each flank. Little troops of white-clad women are again bobbing up and down against the sky-line; unwilling mules pushed and dragged over apparently insuperable obstacles; boys chasing one another without a sound along the wads.

So they press forward, hour after hour, talking in whispers, or not at all. Occasionally the quiet is broken by the cry of some animal whose gag has slipped from its mouth, or by a shot coming from nowhere, meaning nothing. Hour by hour they are advancing, like night in pursuit of day, filling the air with the faint rustling noise of phantoms as they hasten by.

Hour upon hour, until without apparent reason laughter and cheerful talk suddenly intrude upon the silence, and we find ourselves, to our amazement, surrounded by the most joyful band imaginable. My mule-driver lays a hand on my knee, indicating with the other some obscure object that has just been left behind. "Posta Spagnola" he observes, and administers a resounding whack to my steed. A quarter of an hour later the frontier has been crossed, and the remainder of the journey lies within the

confines of the neutral zone of Tangier.

They are resting for a time among little knolls, eating bread and figs. But very soon the march has to be resumed, men and women and children together, going over rocks and through water with heavy burdens on their backs, laughing and singing on their way to market. The soldiers have not passed the frontier. Their responsibility is ended. This throng of market people is marching with confidence among shadows, full of irresponsible gaiety. Not for them are the amenities of civilised life, not for them security against hunger and physical discomfort. They are the children of nature; their men can endure every natural hardship; their women and children tramp all night long and laugh in the dark, drenched to the skin from immersion in innumerable streams. They are Arcadians, cradled in the wild, and they enjoy the rare contentment which is only derived from continual association with natural things.

Look how eagerly they are pressing forward now in the increasing light. A new moon has risen. The sign of the golden crescent is in the sky. How they hasten over ledges of rock and through the masses of bramble, jesting with one another as each formidable ridge is surmounted, or laughing uproariously as they descend to the armpits in chill water. A sturdy countryman

has handed his load to a companion, and is carrying a deformed beggar on his shoulders through a wad that is deeper than usual. He returns immediately to perform the same service for a shrivelled old woman.

Three white-draped girls with market baskets full of flowers are conspicuous for an instant in soft moonshine, hesitating on the summit of a knoll before they vanish with loud splashes into shadowy depths beyond, only to reappear, laughing and chatting together, a little farther on.

The bands of market people have melted away as mysteriously as they came. We are travelling with only three or four armed men and our muledrivers. Now we are pulled into a hollow, and the animals off-saddled in front of a cabin, while a white-robed Moor indicates the way in. "Shuayia! Shuayia! To-morrow morning very early the Inglizi will be able to enter Tangier."

But for them it is to-night, and after heated argument, fresh animals are brought round, and the progress resumed.

For long an intermittent flash in the sky has indicated the direction of the lighthouse. Presently fainter gleams, great way off, begin to mark the whereabouts of the European suburb of the mountain. Thenceforward this return to Tangier is a simple reversal of the departure, seven weeks earlier.

our sand-bag, we set off very wearily along the smooth road, taking care to walk side by side in the European way, and not in file, as they do of necessity in the Riff. Passing various police posts, we find ourselves discussing suitable topics in irreproachable English, with the sincere hope that it will not strike any member of the force as odd that such superior persons should be carrying a bulky sack about at dead of night in an international zone.

The nocturnal life of the town is in full swing as we slink through the Petit Socco. Crowded restaurants dazzle with their numerous lights, while in the Casino play has not yet finished. The same croupiers appear always to be raking the same douros about on the green baize table-cloth.

2 L

VOL. CCXVIII.-NO. MCCCXXII.