“Nonsense; can’t he tell the difference?”
“No, sir; the Arabs always ride mares, therefore stallions, when they see the broad back of an Arab saddle, conclude that it is on a mare.”
I observed here some of the small round mounds I had seen elsewhere, and which may be either graves or the remains of vanished dwellings.
A couple of hours later we descried, beyond the mountains, a white spot on the horizon. This is a Marabout tomb on the plain—not far from the well of “Bir el Ahmer.”
The sun was very hot, but, rain having recently fallen, the earth smelt fresh and pleasant.
At long intervals we saw here and there people at work, for the tribes had scattered in every direction to sow and plough. There, where at other seasons flocks of antelopes are wont to gladden the sportsman who roves over the barren plains, are now gathered little bands of men and women to till the ground rendered moist and fertile by Allah; and the smoke from their encampments may be seen rising from all points of the compass.
From the Marabout’s tomb the ground falls away a little towards the south, and on the level, not far ahead, we saw the square-walled enclosure of the well with in one corner an old, low, squat tower, against which was propped a house.
Soon we distinguished the little tentes d’abri pitched in straight lines, and, moving amongst them, the soldiers.
We reached the well, having covered the twelve miles in two hours and a half, and I found a fresh horse and new escort awaiting me.
The company had arrived during the night. The men had slept and cooked their food. Lieutenant Adam and the regimental doctor, M. Cultin, had ridden out to shoot on the neighbouring mountains, so I went in quest of Lieutenants Coturier and Druot, who greeted me with “Bon jour, camarade.”