The five francs, he explained, were only for camel-hire; he did not want
me to pay for his food; he liked me for my company--it seems I reminded
him, in a way, of the folks at Eloued. They must be charming people, and I
was almost tempted to follow his advice and make their acquaintance.
Later on we went to what they call the Roman _barrage_ of the main oasis
river; the large blocks of which it is composed are unquestionably
antique, but they have been carried to this spot not by the ancients, but
by Berber cultivators of long ago. Gazing upon these venerable stones we
were led to talk of past times, of buried treasures and their wondrous
lore. One of his uncles, he tells me, is versed in the black arts and an
adept at raising hoards; he learnt it from a Moroccan. But bad luck had
dogged his footsteps lately. He discovered a treasure whose guardian _jin_
offered to surrender it if he brought three things: a white goat, certain
materials for fumigation, and "the book." It seemed a very simple request,
but each time, unfortunately, that he arrived at the enchanted spot,
he found that, for some extraordinary reason, he had left at home one or
the other of these three articles; and when at last he managed to bring
all three of them together, he accidentally--_sale bete!_--said a pious
"bismillah" at the critical moment, which of course spoilt everything.
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