_“Alham dullah,”_ said the _bash agha_. _“Alham dullah,”_ repeated the _kadi_ with the aged _agha_ and the young _caïds_. The man passed round with the brass tray and jug and the water, and the _bash agha_ went through a lengthy toilet which commenced with his beard and ended with his fingers. Coffee appeared. We all sighed contentedly, the tension of before lunch had disappeared. The _bash agha_ lighted his pipe. I did the same, while the others looked at us with envy, as they themselves could not smoke in the old chief’s presence. Gradually they slipped toward the door to get at their cigarettes. “I wish to play cards,” suddenly said the _bash agha_. The _caïds_ paused at the door. “Go on, Madani,” said the Caïd Aïssa. “No, no, it’s not my turn,” he replied. “And it isn’t mine,” said Marhoun. “The _kadi_ must play,” said the Caïd Ali. “Yes, send along the _kadi_,” they all said. “But I am always made to do this,” protested the man of peace, “and I always lose.” “It’s about all you’re fit for,” laughed Marhoun. This was considered a great joke, and they hustled him back into the presence of the _bash agha_, smiling at his woebegone expression. He squatted down opposite the old gentleman, the chauffeur brought in some stones and placed them between the two players for counters. That mysterious Hispano-Mauresque game began, a game which came from the Peninsula when the Christian kings retook the Alhambra and drove out the Arabs. The _kadi_ looked more and more like an early Victorian dandy than ever. I sat and watched while the others poked fun at the victim, discreetly, from the corner of the room. But this time luck seemed to favor the judge and he began to win; the _bash agha_ got cross again; then he got sleepy; his head began to nod, and finally he dropped off. The _kadi_ turned to me and winked knowingly while he gathered up his winnings. I dozed off too. Arab lunches are conducive to slumber, and I understand why the Orientals recline at their repasts. . . . Suddenly I was roused by Madani. “We ought to be getting away,” he said, “but the _bash agha_ is still asleep.” “Well, wake him,” I replied. “Oh, I can’t. None of us can; we’d never hear the end of it,” broke in Madani. “But you can.” “But I certainly won’t,” I retorted. “I’m sleepy enough myself. Make the _kadi_ do it!” This seemed to amuse Madani, and he returned to the other chiefs and I saw that my suggestion was causing them joy. But not to the _kadi_, who, as usual, protested, and I realized that he was the sort of joke-man of the district. At last, however, he was bustled into the room. He looked anxiously about and, finally, seeing the large brass tray on which the _mechoui_ had been served, he took it up and dropped it with a crash on the part of the floor which was uncarpeted. Then he fled out on to the plain.