As conversation had become boisterous and my luck had taken a sudden turn, I cashed in, and, after thanking the croupier for his kind donations, whose smile portrayed a feeling of derision, I made my exit. After depositing for safe keeping, in one of the leading hotels, numerous curios and several hundred dollars in French currency, I roved at random through the city without any special point of direction. Having heard a great deal about the interesting sights to be seen in the “Kasbah,” the Moorish quarter, which is the ancient fortress of the deys and commands a view of the city from a height of five hundred feet above sea level, I ventured to this weird section of the city. Climbing the long winding stairway, or steps of stone, I soon found myself encompassed by a collection of wild-looking Moors in flowing robes, turbans, and sandals, the women similarly dressed, whose veiled faces showed only their eyes, and the artistic tattooing in the centre of their eyebrows, pranced through dimly lighted lanes, like Rip Van Winkle’s hobgoblins of the Catskills. Being unable to hold conversation with these barbarians, I contented myself with being a silent spectator of their grotesque actions. After making the rounds of various places of interest, where it was distinctly obvious that I was an unwelcome visitor, I decided to return to the better-lighted and more civilized plazas of the city. As I tried to figure out my bearings on an imaginary compass, I became bewildered, and in consequence followed any street which had an incline. From the main street of the “Kasbah” are numerous short streets or lanes, which seem to have no connection with other streets, terminating at the entrance to a building. I had tried various ways to reach the steps I had climbed, without success, and here realized the importance of having a guide or an interpreter. Finally I sighted the rays of a search-light, and later a light on the mainmast of a merchant marine entering the bay. Following in the direction of this light, I reached a badly lighted portion of this section of the city overlooking a precipice, when, without a semblance of warning, my arms and feet were pinioned, I was gagged with a roll of hemp, which was placed under my chin and drawn taut around my neck. I made a desperate struggle, but was helpless without the use of my arms, and was compelled to yield when a blood-thirsty brigand placed the point of a dirk against the spring of my affections,――namely, the region of my solar plexus; and it is needless to say that “to slow music” I was relieved of my personal possessions, including my watch, chain, finger-ring, keys, money, letters, and trinkets, by six Moorish brigands, who kindly refrained from casting me over the precipice. As they broke away, I was left to ponder in amazement.