CHAPTER IX. THOUGH not so sanguine as Lutaif, as to the emollient powers of his epistle, I was pleased to find that for the first time, next morning, we received ample sup- plies of food, baskets of grapes and oranges, and for the first time people spoke to us without an air of breaking some command.It appeared he was a French deserter from Algeria, having deserted in Ain Sefra,* walked to Figig, and pretended to turn Mohammedan, he came by Tafilet, and was about to make his way down to the coast.