Presently the temperature became very sultry, and a hot wind rose, which whirled the sand in our eyes. This was the sirocco.
When we reached the high ground, where stands the Marabout’s tomb of “Sid Hamed ben-Habib,” and had passed its palms, we saw, through dust clouds and flying sand, Gabés, looking like a white riband in the distance, while behind us the palms of the oasis waved in a long unbroken line from east to west.
Soon after, we arrived, both tired and thirsty, at Gabés.
In the afternoon, when I was busy packing into cases all the weapons, ornaments, and costumes I had collected in the country, Arab visitors were announced.
This was no less than the Khalifa of El Hamma, “the mild, friendly” Khalifa, accompanied by three of the Matmata mountain sheikhs. They had heard that I was in the town and wished to greet me.
Their visit pleased me much, as a token of a friendly feeling on the part of the natives.
I found seats for them all to the best of my ability—the Khalifa on the bed, one of the sheikhs on a low chest, another on the floor, and a third on a chair; and then Moorish coffee and cigarettes were served.
The conversation turned on my late experiences, and I thanked them for their hospitality and received the reply—
“You will always be welcome amongst us.”
“I am now going home,” I said, “but perhaps some day I may return, and then, my friends, I will seek you, and we may shoot wild boar in the mountains towards El Hamma. Is it not so, Khalifa?”