I reached the house of the Caïd Aïssa to find my friends all sitting in a circle on a priceless Djebel Amour carpet, and looking hungrily out of the door where four Arabs turned a sheep spitted on a long pole before a brushwood fire. The sheep was becoming a glorious golden color as the chief turnspit poured fat on its roasting sides. After my long walk the smell of this cooking meat roused my appetite. I slipped off my shoes and went and sat down on a cushion beside the _bash agha_. I told him all about my fishing exploits, but he didn’t seem to take the least interest in my tale. He merely turned to me and said: “These foolish young men have brought you out to lunch here and they have forgotten to bring knives or forks or plates, so you will have to eat like us.” “Oh,” I replied, rather nervously, “I consider that eating with one’s hands is much more cleanly than using knives and forks which may not have been washed.” The _bash agha_ grunted and the others looked anxiously about. I realized that the old man was in one of his tyrannical moods. At last one of the cooks came in and demanded if he should serve. “Of course,” said the _bash agha_, “but where is the Caïd Madani?” “He is saying his prayers,” ventured the Sheik Marhoun. The _bash agha_ said, _“Alham dullah!”_ (“May Allah be praised”), but his eyes expressed, “Why the deuce must this idiot say his prayers at lunchtime?” I was seized with an uncontrollable desire to laugh, so I went to the door and I saw, out on the plain, the tall figure of Madani, his burnous spread out before him, bowing and prostrating himself with that complete lack of self-consciousness so remarkable in all Mohammedan devotions. However, he finished and, after remaining for a moment in meditation gazing out toward Mecca, he took up his burnous and returned to us. A low table and tray were brought and placed before the _bash agha_. He motioned me to seat myself beside him, he called the _kadi_, and he called an aged _agha_ who seemed to have suddenly grown out of the earth at the smell of food. The others went and squatted at a respectful distance from the old man and spoke in whispers. A man passed round with a brass basin and jug and we all washed our hands in silence. A large bowl of _schorba_, highly spiced soup, was placed on the table, some loaves of barley bread and some wooden spoons. We all dipped into the bowl and commenced the meal. When the _bash agha_ had finished we all put down our spoons, which were carried away with the bowl and placed before the others. The long Arab midday meal began: the _bourak_, or sausage roll; the _mechoui_, which we clawed at with our fingers; the _leham lalou_, stewed mutton with prunes; the _kous-kous_; and finally the honey cakes. As we finished each dish the remains were taken to the others, who by this time had been joined by the _bash agha’s_ chauffeur. A large jug of skimmed milk was passed round and we all took a sip.