The _bash agha_ opened one eye, then the other, then seemed about to sleep again. However, at that moment a diversion was caused by the entry of the aged _agha_ with the statement that there was a man with a petition to make. The _bash agha_ came to and, sitting up, settled his turban and became at once the “Emperor.” The _caïds_ became “princes,” and squatted down in a semi-circle on the carpet; the chauffeur ventured back and started mending a tire. The petitioner marched in and, after kissing the old man’s shoulder, went and sat at a distance. For ten minutes he said “How-do-you-do” in different poses and accents. For a moment there was a lull, and then all of a sudden the storm burst, as in a torrent of words he poured out his story. He talked so rapidly that I only understood vaguely, but I gathered that his flock had been stolen by nomads of the _bash agha_ who had come up from the south. The _bash agha_ was silent for a time, then he too burst into a flood of verbiage. It was a most extraordinary group. The _bash agha_ at one end of the room, sitting on a heap of cushions, his whole attention riveted on the man before him who squatted, speaking rapidly, but with practically no gestures. Occasionally one of the _caïds_ would throw in a remark, but otherwise one would have supposed that the matter was quite indifferent to them. And yet it was a question which to these Arabs was one of the greatest importance. The complaint was of the tribe of the district who accused one of the nomad tribes of the Larba, now pasturing near-by, of stealing sheep. The sheep had disappeared ten days ago and had been tracked with that mysterious instinct across those limitless wastes of desert to Ghardaia, three hundred miles to the south. The man wanted their return as well as the punishment of the thieves. The _bash agha_ turned to the _kadi_, who for the moment ceased being the joke-man, and spoke a few words to him. The _kadi_ nodded. The _bash agha_ addressed the Caïd Madani. “This affects your tribe. You will send a mounted man to Ghardaïa forthwith. He will apprehend the robbers and have them drive the flocks back here. You will bring them before me at Chellala.” _“Inch Allah,”_ acquiesced Madani. Justice was done. A horseman was to ride over the desert to Ghardaïa and back, and I pictured a Lord-Lieutenant of Sussex saying to the sheriff: “You will tell a constable to bicycle to Edinburgh and fetch back a couple of hundred sheep,” just as one might say, “Go and post this letter.” It was a marvelous example of the simplicity of primitive justice. The _bash agha_ rose. The complainant kissed his turban, and we all followed the old man out. During lunch the sky had become gray and the wind was coming from the north in cold gusts, bringing clouds of sand and grit. We all piled into the car again and started on our return journey.