Page:Algeria from Within.pdf/316

"It’s about all you’re fit for," laughed Marhoun.

This was considered a great joke, and they hustled him back into the presence of the bash agha, smiling at his woebegone expression.

He squatted down opposite the old gentleman, the chauffeur brought in some stones and placed them between the two players for counters. That mysterious Hispano-Mauresque game began, a game which came from the Peninsula when the Christian kings retook the Alhambra and drove out the Arabs. The kadi looked more and more like an early Victorian dandy than ever.

I sat and watched while the others poked fun at the victim, discreetly, from the corner of the room.

But this time luck seemed to favor the judge and he began to win; the bash agha got cross again; then he got sleepy; his head began to nod, and finally he dropped off. The kadi turned to me and winked knowingly while he gathered up his winnings.

I dozed off too. Arab lunches are conducive to slumber, and I understand why the Orientals recline at their repasts. . .

Suddenly I was Seed by Madani. "We ought to be getting away," he said, "but the bash agha is still asleep.”

"Well, wake him," I replied.

"Oh, I can’t. None of us can; we’d never hear the end of it," broke in Madani. "But you can."

"But I certainly won’t," I retorted. "I’m sleepy enough myself. Make the kadi do it!"

This seemed to amuse Madani, and he returned to the other chiefs and I saw that my suggestion was

causing them joy. But not to the kadi, who, as usual, protested, and I realized that he was the sort of joke-man of the district. At last, however, he was bustled into the room.