The _biaz_—such is the name of the falconer, the individual whose special duty it is to tend and feed the falcon—sometimes entertains a blind and fatal attachment for his pupil. He will pet and pamper her to excess; and although it is proverbially said that "vanity is her only counsellor and sole motive of her actions," yet, if she be not hungry, instead of hunting, she resumes her liberty. A bird, however, must be exceedingly well trained and even renowned, to be kept for more than one year. As a rule, unless she has displayed an exceptional prowess, she is turned loose at the end of the season, as another is sure to be obtained before the time comes round again. Birds that have been kept for three years are quoted as something quite out of the common run. When the _djouad_, or nobles, go out hawking, it is in parties of five-and-twenty to thirty, without reckoning their attendants, and wagers are often laid. For a trained falcon, a camel is given, or a hundred _boudjous_, and at times even a horse. The falcon is regarded as a member of the family. She lives in the tent, and is the object of the most constant attention. Some chiefs are never to be seen without their falcon, which they carry about with them everywhere. It is a sign of distinction and of gentle birth to have marks of a falcon's muting on one's burnous. In the Sahara, little or great, rich or poor, all alike love and caress the "gentle" bird. "And how should it be otherwise?" said to me one day a noble Arab; "we love pomp, splendour, and magnificence, and one must be more or less than an Arab not to feel joy and excitement at the sight of our warriors returning from hawking. The chief rides on in front, followed by many horsemen, and carrying two falcons, one on his shoulder, the other on his fist, guarded by a leather gauntlet. The hoods of these birds are enriched with silk, morocco leather, gold, and small ostrich plumes, while their jesses are embroidered and ornamented with silver bells. The steeds neigh, the camels are loaded with game, and their drivers murmur, in a melancholy tone, one of those chaunts of love, or war, which never fail to find the way to our hearts. Yes; I swear by the head of the Prophet, next to a goum taking the field, there is nothing so striking as the departure or return of a hawking party. Thus, however weary, exhausted, and out of breath one may be, sleep is less refreshing than the hope and expectation of recommencing on the morrow." THE CHACE BY ABD-EL-KADER.