“In the South, as you know, things are freer than in a garrison town, and there’s a sort of comradeship between the officer and his men which you don’t find elsewhere. The captain burst out laughing.
“ ‘You, my lad?’
“ ‘Yes, captain, and if you like I’ll bring back the whole tribe prisoners.’
“The C.O. was a whimsical fellow, and took him at his word.
“ ‘You’ll start tomorrow with six men of your own choosing, and if you don’t perform your promise, look out for trouble!’
“The sergeant smiled under his moustache.
“ ‘Have no fears, colonel. My prisoners will be here by noon on Wednesday at the latest.’
“This sergeant, Mohammed-Fripouille, as he was called, was a truly amazing fellow, a Turk, a real Turk, who had entered the service of France after a somewhat obscure and no doubt chequered career. He had travelled in many lands, in Greece, Asia Minor, Egypt, and Palestine, and must have left behind him a pretty thick trail of misdeeds. He was a real Bashi-Bazouk, a bold rapscallion, ferocious, and gay with a placid Oriental gaiety. He was stout, very stout in fact, but as supple as a monkey, and rode superbly. His moustaches were unbelievably long and thick, and always gave me a confused impression of a crescent moon and a scimitar. He had an exacerbated hatred for the Arabs, and treated them with cunning and horrible cruelty, perpetually inventing new tricks, ghastly turns of calculated treachery.
“He was also unbelievably strong and preposterously daring.
“ ‘Choose your men, my lad,’ said the C.O. to him.
“Mohammed took me. The gallant fellow trusted me, and I remained devoted to him, body and soul, as a result of his choice of me, which gave me as much pleasure as the cross of honour that I won later on.
“Well, we started off next morning at dawn, just the seven of us. My comrades were of that bandit pirate class whose members, after leading the life of vagabond marauders in every possible country, end by taking service in some foreign legion. In those days our army in Africa was full of these rascals, splendid soldiers, but utterly unscrupulous.
“Mohammed had given each of us some ten pieces of cord to carry, each about a yard long. I was also loaded, as being the youngest and lightest, with a whole length of rope, a hundred yards long. When he was asked what he proposed to do with all this string, he replied with his sly calm air:
“ ‘It’s for fishing for Arabs.’
“And he winked maliciously, a trick he had learnt from a veteran Parisian chasseur d’Afrique.
“He rode at the head of our troop, his head swathed in the red turban he always wore in the desert, smiling with pleasure under his enormous moustache.
“He was a fine sight, that huge Turk, with his powerful belly, his colossal shoulders, and his placid expression. He was mounted on a white horse, of medium size, but very strong, and the rider seemed ten times too big for his mount.
“We had entered a little ravine, stony, bare, and yellow, which drops down to the valley of the Chélif, and were talking of our expedition. My comrades spoke with every conceivable different accent, for among them were to be found a Spaniard, two Greeks, an American, and three Frenchmen. As for Mohammed-Fripouille, he had an unbelievable lisp.
“The sun, the terrible sun, the sun of the South, quite unknown on the other side of the Mediterranean, fell upon our shoulders; we went forward at a walking pace, as always in those parts.
“All day we advanced without meeting either a tree or an Arab.
“At about one in the afternoon we had halted beside a little spring which flowed between the stones, and eaten the bread and dried mutton which we carried in our haversacks; then, after twenty minutes’ rest, we had started off again.
“At last, at about six in the evening, after a long detour imposed upon us by our leader, we discovered a tribe encamped behind a conical hill. The low brown tents made dark spots upon the yellow ground, and looked like large desert mushrooms growing at the foot of the red hillock calcined by the sun.
“They were our men. A little further on, at the edge of a dark-green field of esparto grass, the tethered horses were feeding.
“ ‘Gallop,’ ordered Mohammed, and we arrived in the centre of the encampment like a hurricane. The frenzied women, clad in white rags which drooped and billowed round them, hastily entered their dens of canvas, crouching and crawling, shrieking like hunted animals. The men, on the contrary, came up from all sides, attempting to defend themselves.
“We rode straight for the loftiest tent, the chief’s.
“We kept our swords sheathed, following the example of Mohammed, who was galloping in a curious manner; he remained absolutely immobile, bolt upright on the little horse, which struggled madly to support his mighty bulk. The tranquillity of the rider, with his long moustaches, contrasted strangely with the liveliness of the animal.
“The native chief came out of his tent as we arrived in front of it. He was a tall thin man, black, with a shining eye, a bulging forehead, and eyebrows shaped like the arc of a circle.
“ ‘What do you want?’ he cried in Arabic.
“Mohammed reined in his horse with a jerk, and answered in the same language:
“ ‘Was it you that killed the English traveller?’
“ ‘You’ve no right to question me,’ said the agha in a loud voice.
“All around me was a sound like the muttering of a storm. The Arabs came up from all sides, hustled us, made a ring round us, shouted wildly. They looked like fierce birds of prey, with their great hooked noses, their thin bony faces, their wide garments shaken by their gestures.
“Mohammed was smiling, his turban on one side, excitement showing in his eye; I saw little quivers of pleasure run through his
