A boar-hunt was settled for next morning. The plough was abandoned, and every man mustered with his gun. Preceded by a tamborine, we marched along the front of the other douars, and each poured forth its troop, amidst great and fierce excitement. There was yelling, running, and firing. My course was impeded by the sick and maimed who were brought and laid down before me. I could do nothing for them; and they were only jostled by the crowd. After we had cleared the douars, we were summoned to the top of a tumulus. A circle was cleared, and a man of another tribe came forward; they all held up their hands in the attitude in which the Tyrian Hercules is represented, and following the chief or priest, pronounced these words, “In the name of God, we, this day, are brothers; if any man’s hand be on his neighbour, may the hand of the Most Merciful be on him; if no man has evil thoughts, may our work be prospered.” The beaters, of whom there were about a hundred boys and old men, were told off, and we set forward, with nearly four hundred guns, dropping parties to crown the winding heights. The station assigned to us was the brow of a hill! I started without parley for the gorge below, but as soon as the soldiers divined my intention, they (having come mounted) gave me chase as if I had been an escaped felon. There was no want of boars; we saw them hopping out of our way, and they all, of course, got off. Not often has a pig kept so much good company waiting without disappointing any one of his supper; for if we had killed a score not one of the party would have cooked a morsel.