We rode through the gate. The village consists of narrow streets and lanes of wretched low houses. The air was oppressively hot, and dirt was everywhere. My guide rode in front, pushing people aside with loud exclamations. They submitted quietly to being hustled; “Kith to kin is least kind.” Then, again crossing the river, we rode through the oasis to other villages and as far as the poor huts of Shenini, then turned again down to the stream, which here ran between high banks, and after visiting, just at nightfall, some encampments close by, we hastened on our way back to Gabés.

CHAPTER IV
From Gabés to the Matmata Mountains

Crouched in a wretched hut, which seemed to me then the perfection of comfort, I sat writing by the light of a flickering candle at the village of Zaraua, on the top of a mountain of the Matmata range, south of Gabés.

Outside I could hear my horse munching, as he stood, his well-earned barley; farther away dogs were barking. The moon sent her rays through my doorway; and now and then came to my ear the sound of human voices, but this soon ceased as the sun had long since set: for in these regions all retire to rest early so as to rise at daybreak.

The two previous days had sped as in a fairy tale. As I opened my window at the Hotel de l’Oasis at 4.30 a.m. on the 17th October, it was still half-dark, but I could distinguish a little way down the street an Arab horse, saddled, and by its side a white bundle lying on the footway. It was Hamed, the Arab horseman, whom the bureau de renseignement had placed at my disposal, and who was now waiting for five o’clock, the hour fixed for our start. A little later arrived my brown steed, supplied by the Spahi regiment.

MAP OF SOUTHERN TUNISIA.

[(Large-size)]

My small travelling kit, photographic apparatus, and breakfast were packed on Hamed’s horse. The revolver I slung on my own saddle, little realising that the same afternoon I should fire it on a festive occasion; and we started, wending our way amongst the showy, newly-built European houses.