The oasis, which is very extensive, is watered from the Wad Todghrá, which flows through its midst, supplying innumerable canals. Altogether it is said to contain upwards of forty large _ksor_, one or two of which, I was informed, can put as many as from 300 to 400 men into the field in time of war. I found the elevation of Asrir to be 3260 feet above the sea-level. Stowed away in the corner of the _fondak_, or caravanserai, I ran no risk of detection, and was able to watch the scene around me from a point of vantage offering not only safety from detection, but also some shelter from the frosty night-air. The crowd, illumined by the lanterns that many of them bore, passed and repassed, struggling for barley for their animals and food for themselves. Near us was a rough extemporised oven of earth, at which a number of half-nude Haratin, natives of the banks of the Wad Draa, were cooking _shua_—boiled mutton—in tiny, and none too clean, wooden bowls. We procured a couple of these for a small price, and enjoyed the luxury of real meat. One fact that I had been noticing all along the road here thrust itself before me more than ever—namely, the entire absence of the camel. One would naturally expect to find him in this portion of trans-Atlas Morocco, but except for a few coming from the camp at Tafilet, I saw absolutely none. The fact is, the Berbers have never taken to the camel, and for some reason or other highly disapprove of him—why, I was unable to discover. However, on more than one occasion I have heard the Berber in chaff call an Arab a camel-driver—no doubt a term of reproach in his eyes. For beasts of burden the small mules of the district seem to have taken their place, and no doubt they are more economical with food. The camel, it is true, is easily fed where there is grazing to be found; but in these dry districts where all its fodder would have to be grown for the purpose, his keep would be far more heavy than that of the tiny mules in use, which scarcely eat more than a donkey, and subsist largely on dates. We left Asrir at dawn on November 15, passing out of the _ksar_ as soon as the gate was open, for it is kept closed during the night, a custom in practice all through these districts. Our road lay for an hour through the palm-groves, ever crossing the little canals of clear water. We picked up a good supply of dates from beneath the trees for one day’s provisions for the march, and a handful or two were given us now and again by the natives, many of whom were engaged in harvesting the fruit, and who, evidently attracted by the string of big wooden beads round my neck, mistook us for a party of wandering devotees of the sect of the Derkauiya. Whatever may have been their object in bestowing upon us charity, it was welcome enough, and for once we set out on our day’s tramp with the certainty of a mid-day meal.