We are weary and glad to approach our journey's end," replied the head of the caravan.
"Have you seen the wild boar in your last day's journey ?" "We have, my master, in great numbers, not far from here." "Good ones ?" "As large as an ass, my master." "In which direction ?" The Moor responded by raising his hand and solemnly pointing to the south-east.
After riding in the direction given for an hour or more, the party halted on the crest of a hill, scanning the desert for game, and discovered two sickly looking little pigs running across the valley below.
"Those are not the ones the Moor saw ?" said Paul.
"Oh yes, they are.

It's a wonder he imagined them so small as an ass, for it is their national characteristic to exaggerate." There was rather meager sport in running down and spearing the skinny little wild pigs, but after it was done the party returned to the city, as the experienced hunters knew there would be no use looking further that day.
One place in the queer old Moorish city which Paul never tired of visiting, was the market.

There the Moorish women with covered faces, squatted on the ground displaying their little bowls of beans, peas, etc., for sale.

The tired camels from the desert were laying with their noses buried in the sand, taking much needed rest, while their owners stood about and bartered the goods of which they were possessed.
Once, while walking around the market place with Colonel Mathews, Paul saw a man seated cross-legged on the ground in the midst of a circle of merchants, who were deeply interested in the discourse and gestures of the central figure.
"I'll wager something that I can guess what that fellow is, though I do not understand Arabic," remarked Paul to the Colonel.
"Well, what is he ?" asked the Colonel.
"An auctioneer," triumphantly asserted Boyton.
"Wrong.

He is a professional story-teller.