Soon it became so dark that the horses stumbled on the rough road, and we had to slacken to a walk. For a long time we saw nothing but each other’s dim figures and heard only the tramp of our horses.
At last, at the village of Aram, lights shone and dogs barked as we passed amongst its palms.
After riding in the still night about an hour longer, we again heard dogs barking and saw lights. We were then near the oasis of Marath, where, having ridden fully twenty miles, we were to rest some hours and start again at sunrise for Gabés.
In the caravansarai—which resembled that of Bir el Ahmer—a Spahi from Gabés awaited me with a fresh horse.
The lights in the house streamed from the rooms into the courtyard. Within were some soldiers, who had bivouacked round about a candle placed on the floor. They came out, received our horses and conducted me to an officer’s room. Four bare walls; raised on masonry was a sloping plank-bed which extended along the inner wall; besides this there was a table and a bench.
A native, who was in charge of the place, I sent to the oasis to buy me some candles. The soldiers eagerly offered to lend me, till his return, their little taper stuck in a bottle.
The Spahis then laid the table, and I dined, after first dividing with them and the soldiers the eatables with which I had been so sumptuously provided, for no one knows better than I do how a small extra ration tends to put a soldier into good-humour. I have not forgotten the old days in South Oran when I was myself a mere private.
The Spahis and the four soldiers drew up in line at the table, and I began the distribution—bread and dates to the Mohammedans, and wine to the soldiers, which I poured into the tin mugs they held out to me, and to whom I gave also bread and meat.
“Right about face, march!” I gave the order involuntarily, and the troop at once vanished through the door.
Soon the sound of gay voices singing reached my ear from the adjoining room.