Part 21

There are several modes of hunting the lion. When one makes his appearance in the midst of a tribe, his presence is indicated by a multitude of signs of all kinds. The earth shakes, as it were, with roarings. Then a series of losses and accidents take place. A heifer, or a colt is carried off, or a man is missing. The alarm spreads through all the tents. The women tremble for their property and for their children. Lamentations arise on all sides, and the hunters decree the death of their troublesome neighbour. It is published in the market-places that on such a day and at such an hour, all who are capable of joining in the chace, whether on horseback or on foot, must assemble in arms at an appointed spot. Prior to this, the thicket has been discovered to which the lion retires during the day. Everything being ready, the hunters set out, the men on foot leading the way. When they have arrived within fifty paces of the bush in which they expect to find the enemy, they halt and await him. Closing up, they form three deep, the second rank ready to fill up the gaps in the first if succour be necessary, while the third, firm and compact, and composed of capital marksmen, forms an invincible reserve. Then commences a strange spectacle. The front rank begin to insult the lion, and even send a few balls into his hiding place to make him come out: "Look at him who boasts of being the bravest of all, and yet dares not show himself before men! It is not he—it is not the lion—it is a cowardly thief, and may Allah curse him!" The animal sometimes comes while they are abusing him in this manner, and, looking round serenely on all sides, yawns and stretches himself, and appears perfectly insensible to what is passing around him.

One or two balls now hit him, upon which, magnificent in his audacity, he stalks forth and stands in front of the bush which sheltered him. Not a word is spoken. The lion roars, rolls his glaring eyes, draws back, crouches down, again rises up, and by the movements of his tail and body snaps off all the branches that surround him. The front rank discharge their pieces, whereupon the monster bounds forward, and generally falls dead beneath the fire of the second rank, who step forward and fill up the intervals left in the first. This is the critical moment, for the lion resigns the contest only when a ball has struck him in the head, or in the heart. It is no rare thing to see him continue the fight with ten or a dozen balls through his body. In other words, he is seldom overpowered until he has killed or wounded some of his foot assailants. The horsemen who accompany the expedition have nothing to do, so long as their foe does not quit the broken ground. Their part commences when, as occasionally happens, the men on foot have succeeded in driving out the lion upon a plateau, or into the plain. The combat then assumes a new aspect, full of interest and originality. Each horseman, according to his hardihood and agility, spurs on his horse at full speed, fires at the lion as at an ordinary mark, at a short distance, and, wheeling his horse round the moment he has fired, gallops off to reload his piece before making a second assault. The lion, attacked on all sides and wounded at every moment, faces about in every direction, rushes forward, flees, returns, and falls, but only after a glorious struggle. His defeat, indeed, must inevitably terminate in his death, for against horsemen mounted on Arab horses success is impossible. He makes but three terrific bounds, after which his pace is by no means swift, and an ordinary horse will distance him without trouble. To form a just idea of such a combat, it is absolutely necessary to have witnessed one. Every horseman hurls an imprecation; there is a wild confusion of sounds, the burnouses fly out, the powder thunders, the hunters crowd together or scatter widely apart. The lion roars, the balls whistle, and the whole forms a scene of movement and animation. But notwithstanding all this tumult, accidents are very unusual. The hunters have little to fear, unless a fall from their horse throws them under the paw of their enemy, or—which is more frequent misadventure—they are hit by a friendly but ill-directed ball.

Such is the most picturesque, the most warlike aspect that lion-hunting assumes. Other measures, however, are sometimes adopted, both more sure and more speedily efficacious. The Arabs have observed that on the morrow after he has carried off and devoured sheep or oxen, the lion, suffering from a weak digestion, remains in his lair, fatigued, oppressed with sleep, and incapable of moving. When a place that is usually disquieted with roaring is undisturbed for a whole night, it may be inferred that the formidable inhabitant who dwells therein is plunged in this state of lethargy. Upon this, a man of devoted courage, following the tracks that lead to the covert in which the monster is concealed, will go up to him, take a steady aim, and shoot him dead upon the spot with a ball between the two eyes. Kaddour-ben-Mohammed, of the Oulad-Messelem, a section of the Ounougha, is reputed to have killed several lions in this manner.

Recourse is likewise had to various forms of ambush. The Arabs sometimes excavate a hole in the path the lion usually takes, and cover it with thin woodwork, which the animal breaks by its weight and is caught in the trap. At other times they dig close to a dead body a hole covered by thick boards, between which a small opening is left to allow the barrel of a gun to pass through. In this hole, or _melebda_, the hunter squats down, and when the lion approaches the body, he takes a careful aim and fires. Not unfrequently the lion, if he has not been struck down, throws himself on the _melebda_, shatters the barrier, and devours the hunter behind his demolished rampart. On other occasions, again, a single man will undertake an adventurous and heroic enterprise, recalling the feats of chivalry. Si-Mohammed-Esnoussi, a man of approved veracity, who inhabited the Djebel-Guerzoul, near Tiaret, thus describes his own mode of going to work:

"I used to mount a good horse and proceed to the forest on a bright moonlight night. In those days I was a capital shot, and my ball never fell to the ground. Then I began to cry aloud several times, _Ould el ataïah!_—'Daughter of a mother who yields herself up!'—The lion would come forth, and direct his steps towards the spot whence issued the cry; and at that moment I fired at him. Occasionally the same thicket would contain several lions, who would issue forth all together. If one of these brutes approached me from behind, I would turn my head and fire at him over the back of my saddle, and then go off at full gallop in the fear that I might have missed him. If I was attacked in front, I wheeled my horse round and repeated the manœuvre."

The people of that district affirm that the number of lions killed by Mohammed-ben-Esnoussi amounted to nearly a hundred. This intrepid hunter was still alive in the year 1253 [A. D. 1836]. When I saw him, he had lost his eyesight. May he participate in the mercy of Allah!

A yet more dangerous sport than hunting the lion himself, is hunting a lion's cubs. There are individuals, however, adventurous enough to undertake even this hazardous enterprise. Every day, about three or four in the afternoon, the lion and lioness quit their lair to make a distant reconnaissance, with the object, no doubt, of procuring food for their litter. They may be seen upon the summit of an eminence, examining the _douars_, and taking note of the smoke that issues from them, and of the position of the flocks. After uttering some horrible roars, an invaluable warning to the surrounding population, they again disappear. It is during this absence that the hunters cautiously make their way to the cubs and carry them off, taking care to gag them closely, for their cries would not fail to bring back the old ones, who would never forgive the outrage. After an exploit of this nature the entire neighbourhood is obliged to be doubly vigilant. For seven or eight days the lions rush about in all directions, roaring fearfully. The lion under such circumstances is a truly terrible monster. At such a time the eye must not encounter the eye.

The flesh of the lion, though sometimes eaten, is not good, but his skin is a valued gift, and presented only to Sultans and illustrious chiefs, and occasionally, to marabouts and _zaouïas_. The Arabs fancy that it is good to sleep upon one, as it drives away the demons, conjures up good fortune, and averts certain diseases. Lion's claws, mounted in silver, are used as ornaments by women; while the skin of his forehead is a talisman worn by some persons on their head to preserve the energy and audacity of their brain. In short, lion-hunting is held in high repute among the Arabs. Every combat with that animal may take the device: _Kill or Die!_ He who kills him, eats him—says the proverb—and he who kills him not is eaten by him. In this spirit they bestow on any one who has killed a lion, this laconic and virile eulogy: _Hadak houa_—"that one is he!" A popular belief illustrates the grandeur of the part played by the lion in the life and imagination of the Arabs. When a lion roars, they pretend that they can readily distinguish the following words: _Ahna ou ben-el mera_—"I and the son of woman." Now, as he twice repeats _ben-el mera_, and only once says _ahna_, they conclude that he recognizes no superior save the son of woman.

THE CAMEL.[89]

It was said by the Prophet: "The good things of this world, to the day of the last judgment, are attached to the forelocks of your horses;

"Sheep are a blessing;

"And the Almighty has created nothing, as an animal, preferable to the camel."

The camel is the ship of the desert. Allah hath said: "You may load your merchandize in barks and on camels." As in the desert there is very little water, and there are long distances to be traversed, the Almighty has endowed them with the faculty of easily enduring thirst. In winter they never drink. The Prophet more than once gave the following advice: "Never utter coarse remarks on the subject of the camel or of the wind: the former is a boon to men, the latter an emanation from the soul of Allah." Camels are the most extraordinary animals in the world, and yet there are none more docile, owing to their being so much with men. So great, indeed, is their docility, that they have been known to follow a rat, that, in the act of gnawing, pulled a rope smeared with butter, by which they were fastened. Such is the will of Allah. These apophthegms suffice to show that the camel is, of all created animals, the most useful in respect of the wants of the Arabs.

The Arabs of the Sahara can tell the age of a camel by its teeth. They say it is long-lived, though they cannot give any very precise information on the subject. They put the case, however, in this manner. If a camel be born on the same day with a child, it has reached old age by the time the latter has distinguished himself in combats, which implies the age of eighteen to twenty-five years. Camels require much care and experience in managing them. Whenever it is possible, the male camels are led to a different pasture from the females. After the 15th of April, they are not sent out to feed until the afternoon, because it has been remarked that the grass is covered with a sort of dew that lays the foundation of fatal diseases. Care is also taken to prevent the camels from eating within the _douar_ what remains in the morning of the small quantity of grass given to the horses overnight. These precautions are necessary during the six weeks or two months in which the dew is observed. Throughout the whole winter, the end of autumn, and the beginning of spring, the camels may be permitted, with advantage, to browse on shrubs with a salt flavour; but in the beginning of April, and at the end of May, they must not be allowed to do so for more than five or six days.

The shearing of the camels takes place in the latter part of April. They are made to lie down, and are operated upon by the shepherds and female slaves, a woman standing behind them to gather the fleece which she thrusts into bags. It is a somewhat slow operation. _El oubeur_, or camel's fleece, is used in making canvas for tents, camel-ropes, sacks called _gherara_, and _djellale_, or horse-cloths. It is mixed almost invariably with common wool.

The ordinary burden of a camel is two _tellis_ of wheat, or about 250 kilogrammes. If not over-driven, it can go from dawn to sunset, at least if it be allowed, as it journeys along, to elongate its neck and pluck the herbage that grows on either side of its path. In this manner it will cover from ten to twelve leagues in the twenty-four hours, and every fifth day it must be permitted to rest. In the desert, camels are let out to hire, not by the day, but by the journey, going and returning, according to the distance. For instance, from El-Biod, among the Oulad-Sidi-Shikh, to the Beni-Mzab, or about fifty leagues, costs from two to three _douros_, and from the same point to Timimoun six or seven _douros_.

The flesh of the camel is eaten as food. The animal, however, is seldom killed unless it has a broken leg, or is sick. The flesh is sometimes salted, and, after being dried in the sun, is kept as a provision on a journey. The love and veneration felt by the Arabs of the Sahara for their camels are quite intelligible. "How should we not love them?" they exclaim. "Alive, they transport ourselves, our wives, our children, our baggage and provisions, from the land of oppression to that of liberty. The weight they can carry is enormous, and the distance they traverse very considerable. In other words, they further the relations of commerce and render aid in war. Thanks to them, we are able, whenever we please, to shift our encampment, whether in search of new pasturages, or to escape from an enemy. Moreover, we drink their milk, which is also useful in the preparations of food, and neutralises the injurious qualities of the date. Dead, their flesh is everywhere eaten with relish, and their hump is sought after as a savoury dish. Their skin serves as shoe-leather. If soaked, and then sewed to the saddle-tree, it imparts, without the aid of a single nail or peg, a solidity that nothing can affect. Then, their sobriety and endurance of heat and thirst permit them to be kept alike by rich and poor. They are truly a boon from Allah, who hath said:—

Horses for a dispute, Oxen for poverty. Camels for the desert.

SHEEP.

No cattle are reared in the Sahara, owing to the scarcity of water, the scantiness of the herbage, the stony nature of the ground, and the frequent removals from one place to another. But, if the desert be unfavourable for the rearing of cattle, it is, assuredly, the veritable country of the sheep. This animal finds there the salt shrubs eaten by the camel, as well as many fragrant and nutritious plants known by the generic name of _el aâsheub_. Water it obtains from the ponds supplied by the rains, or from the basins formed by the side of wells, and kept up with great care. The wells themselves are, for the most part, surrounded with masonry, and sheltered from the drifting sands. Sheep, besides, are patient of thirst. In spring, they are given to drink once in five or six days; in summer, every other day; in autumn, every third day; and in winter every fourth day. During the great heats of summer, they are not allowed to touch the pools of water lying on the surface of the ground,—experience having shown that at that period of the year stagnant water, rendered tepid by the sun's rays, is very unwholesome. If a drought happens to have prevailed during the first two months of spring, and if rain falls plentifully in the third, the herbage grows luxuriantly, and is called _khelfa_, or compensation. As if to make amends for their long abstinence, the sheep eat it greedily, but it is apt to give them a sickness named _el ghoche_, or treason. This disease does not manifest itself until after the summer heats. The head and lower jaw become much swollen, the animal coughs continually, and death usually supervenes. According to the Arabs, a rainy autumn, by causing fresh grass to spring up early, greatly tends to mitigate the pernicious effects of the _ghoche_.

Sheep are very prolific. They generally lamb twice in the year—in the early part of spring and autumn. The large tribes possess from two to three hundred thousand sheep, which are divided into flocks of four hundred, called _ghelem_ or _aâssa_ [a stick]. Wealthy individuals have from fifteen to twenty _ghelem_, and the poorest a half, or even a quarter _ghelem_.

In the Sahara there is a species of sheep that yields a magnificent wool, very soft but not very long. This is the wool employed in the manufacture of articles of luxury. These animals are nearly red in the head, and the ewes give a great deal of milk.

It is said of the finest ewes of this breed:

They see like an owl, And walk like a tortoise.

Their wool descends to their hoofs and so completely covers their head that, literally, nothing but their eyes is visible. In the Sahara and in the _kuesours_, a _zedja_, or fleece, is worth only one _boudjou_, but the price is greatly enhanced by the time it reaches the Tell, and especially the sea-coast. Some sheep have no horns, and are called _fertass_ [bald]. Others, again, have four, and are known as _el kuerbourb_; while others have horns that are bent back, and are named _el kheroubi_.

The Arabs take no care whatever of their sheep. They have no sheds in which to shelter them from the severity of the weather, nor supplies of forage to save them from starvation. Consequently, in bad seasons they frequently lose one-half of their flocks, and if blamed for this carelessness, or offered advice, they answer quite simply: "To what purpose is all that? They are the property of Allah [_Kher Eurby_]. He does with them as it pleases Him. Our ewes give us two lambs every year. Next year our losses will be repaired."

The following sentiments are ascribed to sheep:—

"I love the close hand, that is, to belong to a miser who would neither sell us, nor slaughter us for the entertainment of his guests.

"I love distant market-places; for when they are near to my master, for one reason or another we are sold, or slaughtered.

"And every day a new house; that is, fresh and more abundant pasturage."

Sheep are the fortune of the child of the desert. He says of them: "Their wool serves to make our tents, our carpets, our garments, our horse-cloths, our sacks, our nose-bags, our camel's-packs, our ropes, our cushions. And what remains in excess of our own necessities we sell in the _kuesours_ or in the Tell, when we go there, after harvest, to buy grain. Their flesh we eat, or give it to be eaten by the guests of Allah. Dried in the sun, it will keep, and be of use to us in our journeys. Their milk is very serviceable to our families, whether as drink or food. We make of it _leben_ or _sheneen_ [sour milk], and what is over we give to our horses. We also get butter from it, which enters into the preparation of our food, or which we exchange in the _kuesours_ for dates. Of their skin we make cushions, and buckets to draw water from the well. With it we ornament the _aâtatouches_[90] of our women, or we dress it for shoe-leather. We have no need to plough, or sow, or reap, or thresh out the corn, or to fatigue ourselves like vile slaves, or like the wretched inhabitants of the Tell. No; we are independent, we pray, we trade, we hunt, we travel, and if we have occasion to procure that which others can only obtain by sweat and toil, we sell our sheep, and forthwith provide ourselves with arms, horses, women, jewels, clothes, or whatever else affords us gratification, or embellishes our existence. The owner of sheep has no need to labour, nor is he ever in want of anything. So Allah has willed it!"

LIFE IN THE DESERT.

In studying life in the desert, I have been greatly struck by its analogy to that of the Middle Ages, and by the resemblance which exists between the horseman of the Sahara and the knight of our legends, romances, and chronicles. This analogy will appear yet more real, this resemblance yet more striking, on a close observation of the accessory characteristics which I now propose to sketch with a rapid hand.

By the Arab of the Sahara, I do not mean a dweller in the _kuesours_. The latter is rallied by the wandering tribes as much as the inhabitants of the Tell, and receives at their hands all sorts of derisive epithets. Grown fat through his habits of indoor and commercial life, he is called "the father of the belly," the grocer, the pepper-dealer. This rearer of fowls—the Arab of the tent possesses no fowls—this shopkeeper resembles the simple citizen of all countries and of all times. He is, at bottom, the villain, the churl of the Middle Ages. He is the Moorish citizen of Algiers—he has the same placid, apathetic, crafty physiognomy.

It is of the master of the tent that I propose to speak: of him who is never more than fifteen to twenty days without changing his abode; of the genuine Nomad, of him who never enters "the tiresome Tell" but once a year, and then only to purchase grain. My horseman, my hunter, my warrior is the man with a hardy iron-nerved constitution, a complexion embrowned by the sun, limbs well proportioned, in stature rather tall than short, but making light of the advantage of height, "of that lion's skin on a cow's back," unless adroitness, activity, health, vigour and, above all, courage be combined with it. But if he values courage, he also pities rather than despises, and never insults those who "want liver." It is not their fault, he good-humouredly remarks, but the will of Allah. His abstinence cannot be exceeded, but, accommodating himself to circumstances, he never neglects an opportunity of making a good and hearty meal. His ordinary diet is simple and without much variety; but, for all that, when the necessity arises, he understands how to entertain his guests in a becoming manner. When the _ouadâa_, or peculiar festival of a tribe, or _douar_, comes round, at which his friends will be present, he would not offer them the slight implied by his absence, and though it may be at a distance of thirty or forty leagues, he will not fail to go there and fill himself with food. Besides, they know well that he is quite ready to return their hospitality, and that they have not to do with one of those stingy town traders who never offer more than a space of four square feet to sit down in, a pipe of tobacco, and a cup of coffee either without any sugar at all, or sugared only after many preliminary phrases, carefully enunciated in recommendation of coffee without sugar.