kneel down in the middle of the courtyard, and
double knee-haltered to prevent him from moving
during the night. Unaware of this arrangement, I
went out later on for a final look round before
turning in, and, to our mutual disgust, fell over the
evil-smelling beast in the dark.
Though the second room was offered to Alssa
and El Haj for a bedroom, with the usual aversion
of an Arab to sleep under cover they preferred, after
the old picturesque though occasionally inconvenient
custom of Arab servants, to lie in the open across the
doorway of their employer. There, with the two
kerratas (camel sacks) for mattresses and the bags
of couscous and dates for pillows, they, to my disgust,
spent the night snoring, or talking in undertones to
the guardian, to the accompaniment of the low
gurglings and mumblings of the camel, and the
weird chuckling whistle of the sand-grouse as they
flew overhead in the dark.
Long before daybreak on the following morning
I heard the ponderous door of the caravanserai
quietly unbarred, and El Haj drive the soft-footed
camel out to graze. Then followed a crackling
sound as Aissa relighted the fire, and the clicking
of crockery together as he quietly prepared the
breakfast. Shortly afterwards I heard the latch of
my door gently raised, a freezingly cold blast of air
swept in, and with it came Aissa.
‘ Are you awake, M’sieur ? ’ he asked. ‘ The sun
will rise in half an hour; it is time to get up. I
have brought you your coffee and breakfast.’
While I dressed and breakfasted, Aissa and El
Haj between them finished the packing and loaded
up the camel. The plates, saucepans, and other
things which had been used for the breakfast were
then placed into one of the baskets, which was tied
on to the saddle above the kerratas, so as to be
easily accessible when required. I handed a small
tip to the guardian, for which he was more than
grateful, and then, just after the sun had risen, in
the piercing cold of a desert morning, we left the
caravanserai, and started again upon our way.