I was seated on the ground, eating an orange, and threw away the skin, which the old Bedawî at once seized and devoured. He then made signs to me to mount my horse, and also signs indicative of a wish to smoke, if I felt inclined to provide the tobacco. We went slowly back, as I now saw that we were in the territory of a strange tribe, and was doubtful how far my guide might be on good terms with them. As we came to the foot of a hill, two more Arabs appeared, starting from concealment; at first they seemed afraid, and then ran down full speed. One was a young man, with a long gun; the other was a boy with a club, which he whirled over his head with a threatening mien. ’Abd el Gâder gravely rebuked him, and he dropped the weapon, saluting in the gruffest voice he could assume, with the same short, sharp accent, which reminds one most of the snorting of a goat or sheep when it advances in alarm on a strange dog. Perhaps this demeanour is intended to show how brave and independent the Bedawî feels, while really hiding a considerable amount of inward trepidation. The young man seized my bridle, but he let go on receiving a gentle kick from my offside boot, and fell in with the party behind, eagerly inquiring who I was. ’Abd el Gâder was not, I think, at his ease, but he showed great coolness, explaining that I was an English Consul, come to see the condition of the country. A Consul, it must be understood, represents the highest dignity amongst Europeans in the Bedawîn eyes, as a “Milord” does among the Lebanon mountaineers. The immediate result of this announcement was a burst of eloquence from the Arabs. “Look at our country, O Consul!” they said; “it has no water, no vineyards, no corn; when will you come and give us water, and make us vineyards?” I replied with a comprehensive nod of the head and the remark that “God made the country for the Bedawî.” These people seem to have a firmly-rooted conviction that Christians can command the rain, and that they had once made vineyards in this part of the wilderness. The new-comers next descended to the more engrossing, if less poetic, topic of tobacco, but I pretended not to understand. These Arabs smoke “hunting-pipes” with a stem half an inch long, and generally fill them with dried stalks or wood-chips. They always ask either for tobacco or for gunpowder. We reached a high, narrow saddle, when suddenly, from a hollow, six more men, fully armed, sprang up and joined the others, who were apparently the advanced scouts. I rode in front at a slow pace, and carefully refrained from looking round or showing any signs of uneasiness, as Bedawîn eyes are very sharp in watching for symptoms of alarm which may encourage them to bully. I confess that it is unpleasant to be followed by ten loaded guns, in the middle of a lonely desert, without a European to help in case of a fight, or any protection beyond the very doubtful one of a single Bedawî of another tribe.