I need scarcely mention that I expressed my thanks in the warmest terms for the brilliant reception I had received, and for my memorable trip to the southernmost military stations.
I was offered a horse for an expedition to Zarsis and the island of Jerba, but had to decline with many thanks, as my time was limited.
After a comfortable breakfast with the infantry officers, I bade my friends farewell before the commandant’s house, and, waving my hat in a final salute, rode off to Gabés.
Commandant Billet accompanied me nearly as far as Metamer, where we parted.
“Should you ever go to Rhadamés by way of Tripoli and return by this route, you would be heartily welcome, and this would certainly be your best way home,” said the commandant.
I replied that should the journey ever be attempted by me, Medinin would have a great attraction for me, and thanked him heartily for all his kindness.
Then I rode with my Spahi towards the camp at Metamer, where the lieutenant on guard came out and invited me in.
After a short halt, I continued in a north-westerly direction along the foot of the mountain of the signal station, and thence by a hilly country north; the Matmata mountains lying to the west of us, and the plain to the east.
On both the plain and the hills I saw ruined Roman remains. We also passed a spot where a few soldiers were encamped for the purpose of digging a well, and as we ascended a hill saw a vehicle come swinging towards us. Before it rode a red Spahi, behind it another. The carriage was a heavy box on four wheels, and had an awning over it; it was drawn by four mules, and two soldiers acted as postillions. From within peeped a woman’s face. It was a captain’s wife who had taken advantage of the opportunity of going viâ Medinin to visit her husband at Zarsis—the carriage being on its way to fetch the sick doctor.
It was nearly sunset, and I urged on my horse to avoid arriving late at the little caravansarai where we were to spend the night.