Towards afternoon the path along which we were travelling joined a broader track, the numerous footmarks on which showed it to be a well-frequented road. Near the junction a small hill stood a few yards from the road, and, before determining our direction, I climbed to the summit and surveyed the country. Half-a-mile away on some rising ground I could see a group of conical thatched roofs, and I was just considering whether it would be wise to venture on entering the village, when I perceived a small party of travellers advancing along the road. Before I had time to examine them they were lost to view among the trees, but I had been able, in spite of the distance, to make out that they were dressed like Mahommedans, and were not natives of the district. I communicated my observation to Aminé, and we hastily consulted as to what course we should pursue. “Let us hide till they have passed,” she urged. “If they are Moslem they may seize us and take us to Sálaga.” “But we cannot always hide,” I objected. “Perhaps they may befriend us seeing that we are Moslem; and they are but few in any case.” “What shall we say to them? Shall we tell them what has happened?” I considered, and then there occurred to me a plan which, distasteful as it was, seemed the most judicious under the difficult circumstances. “I will tell thee, Aminé,” I said, “what we shall do. Do thou go and wait by the roadside, and when the men come, bid them be silent, for thy master, who is a holy man, meditateth and may not be disturbed.” “But thou art not a holy man,” objected Aminé. “Thou hast not prayed once since I met thee.” “It is no matter,” said I, rather taken aback nevertheless; “do as I bid thee and they may perchance think that I have cast away my clothing as a mark of my humility and holiness.” “They will think thee holy indeed to have cast away my garments as well as thine own,” exclaimed Aminé laughing. “But thou art not dirty enough,” she added gravely. “I remember a holy man who came to our town, who wore only one ragged cloth, but he was very dirty and had a filthy, tangled beard. My two sisters and I threw plantain skins at him, and my father beat us.” “I will rub some dirt upon my skin,” said I, “if thou thinkest it necessary. And now go and wait by the roadside before they come.” She went a little distance in the direction from which the party was approaching, and began to gather some of the scanty but tall grass-stalks with which to plait a mat, while I sat myself down crosslegged a few yards off the path, and waited for the strangers.