In our conversation with the young Governor, when we hinted to him the results that would ensue if he refused to take notice of the Sultan’s commands that Kaid Maclean should rest in peace and security, we discovered the reason of his altogether neglecting the terms of the firman, or _daira_ as it is called in Morocco. He, it appears, had paid a visit to the _mahalla_, and been presented by the Sultan with a suit of clothes, the customary gift of the country—and the _kaftan_, or coloured garment of cloth, had been missing. For this oversight in his Majesty’s gift he had almost turned rebel, and although Mulai el Hassen himself only a few nights later was to camp at this very spot, he absolutely disregarded his written orders. The fact of the _kaftan_ is worth narrating, as it gives an insight into the turbulent character of these wild Berber people. Yet in carriage and manner, though by no means friendly, they were gentlemen all over. We struck camp about 3 A.M., and the sun rose upon us after we had crossed the bleak hills, and were proceeding west towards Ferkla. Once more I admired the palm-groves of Milaab and the picturesque situation of the village of Igli, dominating the mouth of the valley where the Wad Todghrá enters Jibel Saghru from the plain. On issuing from the hills our road varied to that I had already taken, and we passed to the south of the conical hills I mentioned in describing my journey, near the settlement of Islef, a picturesque little place of a few _ksor_, with some gardens and running water in the vicinity. The natives all turned out to see and talk with us, and the presence of the soldiers, and the fact that we were ready to purchase a few of their red, black, and white _kanderas_, or shawls—part of the costume of the women of Aït Atta—kept them in a state of tolerable politeness, though their curiosity was unlimited, Kaid Maclean’s mackintosh cloak receiving enormous attentions, being stroked and pinched and examined and ejaculated on by the whole crowd.