“I have been with the real Moors, my London Caloro. Who knows more of the real Moors than myself? About forty years ago I was with my ro in Ceuta, for he was still a soldier of the king, and he said to me one day, ‘I am tired of this place where there is no bread and less water, I will escape and turn Corahano; this night I will kill my sergeant and flee to the camp of the Moor.’ ‘Do so,’ said I, ‘my chabo, and as soon as may be I will follow you and become a Corahani.’ That same night he killed his sergeant, who five years before had called him Calo and cursed him, then running to the wall he dropped from it, and amidst many shots he escaped to the land of the Corahai, as for myself, I remained in the presidio of Ceuta as a suttler, selling wine and repani to the soldiers. Two years passed by and I neither saw nor heard from my ro; one day there came a strange man to my cachimani (_wine-shop_), he was dressed like a Corahano, and yet he did not look like one, he looked like more a callardo (_black_), and yet he was not a callardo either, though he was almost black, and as I looked upon him I thought he looked something like the Errate, and he said to me, ‘Zincali; chachipé!’ and then he whispered to me in queer language, which I could scarcely understand, ‘Your ro is waiting, come with me, my little sister, and I will take you unto him.’ ‘Where is he?’ said I, and he pointed to the west, to the land of the Corahai, and said, ‘He is yonder away; come with me, little sister, the ro is waiting.’ For a moment I was afraid, but I bethought me of my husband and I wished to be amongst the Corahai; so I took the little parné (_money_) I had, and locking up the cachimani went with the strange man; the sentinel challenged us at the gate, but I gave him repani (_brandy_) and he let us pass; in a moment we were in the land of the Corahai. About a league from the town beneath a hill we found four people, men and women, all very black like the strange man, and we joined ourselves with them and they all saluted me and called me little sister. That was all I understood of their discourse, which was very crabbed; and they took away my dress and gave me other clothes, and I looked like a Corahani, and away we marched for many days amidst deserts and small villages, and more than once it seemed to me that I was amongst the Errate, for their ways were the same: the men would hokkawar (_cheat_) with mules and asses, and the women told baji, and after many days we came before a large town, and the black man said, ‘Go in there, little sister, and there you will find your ro;’ and I went to the gate, and an armed Corahano stood within the gate, and I looked in his face, and lo! it was my ro.