Altogether, the _ksar_ in Aït Iunir where we spent the night of November 12 showed far more signs of prosperity than any we had as yet visited. Not only was it very extensive, but the women wore far more jewellery, their necks being hung with large silver necklaces and coral and amber beads, while the clothes of the men were newer and of better material than usual. Added to this, the presence of such little luxuries as tea-trays and cups spoke of better living than the usual hard fare of the people. In spite of the long march before us we sat up late, our host insisting on not leaving us until past midnight, and I was only able to snatch a couple of hours of sleep before we were told that it was time to be off. Miserably cold it was when we girded up our loins and packed our little donkeys for the start, and at such moments as these I almost felt inclined to abandon my risky journey and turn back. The thought that all these hardships would have to be gone through on the return journey, and in far colder weather, was no pleasant one; but I felt I could face them rather than fail to accomplish my object, and so I persisted—until at length my efforts were crowned with success. In the cold grey dawn we forded the river and ascended the steep slope on its eastern bank, reaching at the summit the commencement of the plain of Anbed, which forms the watershed between the rivers flowing east and west—that is to say, between the basin of the Wad Todghrá, which joins the Gheris near Ul Turug, some ninety miles to the east, and the Wad Dads, the chief tributary of the Wad Draa. Not a vestige of vegetation was to be seen beyond the few dried-up tufts of wild thyme, but a distant view of gazelle and a flock of _muflon_ show that there must be some pasture, probably a little rank grass in the hollows where water lies in the wet season. The tramp across the dreary desert of Anbed is some fifteen miles in length. The whole way one proceeds almost due east, parallel with the range of Jibel Saghru, and distant from it some eight or ten miles. The same dreary outlook presents itself as did in crossing the strips of desert before arriving at Dads—stone-strewn barren plain and verdureless mountain-ranges on either hand. The peep we obtained of gazelle and _muflon_—Barbary wild sheep—was the only time that, beyond domestic animals, we saw any mammal, with the exception of a striped jerboa, and of these only one or two, during the whole journey from the foot of the Atlas to Tafilet. Hyena I heard of, however, and several of the graveyards we passed were heaped with large stones to prevent their scratching up the bodies.