My new escort, sent from Tatuin, was ready, and the hot midday hours being past I said farewell until the morrow.
There still remained between four and five miles to cover, and we might not loiter on the way; so we pressed on, alternately walking and cantering, keeping close to the mountains on our right.
Half-way between Tatuin and Bir el Ahmer we passed some soldiers who were busy digging a well. They had pitched a little tent, and provisions and water were sent them occasionally. Raising themselves from their work they saluted us as we passed.
Presently mountains appeared in the south and south-east, and on the summit of one on our front we distinguished the signal station of Tatuin. At the foot of this mountain we passed some palm trees, and then turned into the valley. This is full of palms, and on the southern side lay a little Ksar, similar to those with which we had already made acquaintance at Metamer and Medinin.
At a little distance, but nearer the oasis and on the slope, stand the military buildings.
As we rode towards the Bureau we met a couple of natives. “Are the Tuareg still here?” I asked.
“No, they have probably left; they came to buy corn, but there was none to be had, so they went away.”
Just as the sun set I dismounted, and saluted a group of officers who awaited me.
The whitewashed walls of the two rooms into which I was shown were hung round with weapons, implements of the chase, and ethnographical objects collected from the Tuareg. It was a typical lieutenant’s quarter; the owner was in France on leave, and in his absence his comrades had placed his rooms at my disposal.
Captain Beranger, who was to be relieved the day but one following, invited me to dine at the little mess where the infantry officers, the postmaster of the town—young Cavaignac, a descendant of the celebrated general—and an officer of engineers were to dine.