The gate, like so many others in Morocco, takes a turn half-way, this form being the easiest in case of defence being necessary. From the outside, as well as from the interior, a dead wall meets the eye when looking in or out as the case may be. Within we entered a large square, surrounded on two sides by buildings, while the two others were faced with the outside wall, along which a covered arcade had been built where animals and goods, as well as human beings, could find shelter from rain—whenever that rare event happens—or sun. From this square streets lead between the houses to the different parts of the _ksar_. Many of the dwellings are extremely well and solidly built, one and all of _tabia_, but with arched windows of wood, and doors of the same material,—not the rough planks we had seen at Dads, but showing considerable signs of skilful carpentry. We found provisions obtainable, even eggs, a fowl, and some bread, and in every respect Ul Turug resembles more a little town than a desert _ksar_. We took up our position under the high wall of a house, and, tying our donkeys to a couple of tent-pegs, lit a small fire of wood we had collected outside and supped. Quite a number of people were passing the night at Ul Turug. Not only were groups of Berbers to be seen hurrying to and fro, but Arab soldiers from the Sultan’s camp, many of them with their horses, and Jews and negroes, all either coming from or going to Tafilet, a sudden impetus having been given to trade by the presence of the Sultan and the vast multitude that follows him in his marches. Camels and mules laden with grain from Marakesh there were too, all horribly lean and sore-backed after the long march over the Atlas and the desert. In the crowd our little band escaped observation altogether, and very few took any notice of us: one or two Berbers, more friendly than the rest, shared our little blaze of sticks, bringing us in return thin strips of flabby native bread, which when toasted became quite crisp and good. A few words must be said as to the powerful Berber tribe of Aït Atta, a stronghold of which Ul Turug is. Probably no division of the Shloh people south of the Atlas is so well known as this tribe, and deservedly so, for by their bravery and warfare, by their constant extension of territory, and the fear in which their name is held, they have become a byword for all that is fierce or strong.