the foot soldier is not too fatigued; he is gay,
singing cheerful songs. The veterans exercise
their wit at the expense of the less
experienced. They do nothing but tell them
to make the most they can of the pleasant
water, the good fires, the soft grass which
stuffs their mattresses at night—in short, of
all the delights of the mountain; for that
they are soon going to make the
acquaintance of a region where they will find
nothing but sun and sand. They go to
sleep at an early hour. One man in each
mess remains awake, preparing the soup
which his comrades will eat before starting
next morning.

The second day, the trees are scattered
further apart, the hills are lower, the springs
and watercourses more rare; the troop has
suffered some fatigue; but there is no great
difference between to-day's and yesterday's
events; the bivouac is good; the soldier,
refreshed and plentifully fed, resigns himself
contentedly to sleep.

The third day they start an hour before the
dawn. They must push forward, for they
begin to enter the sphere of events which
may necessitate great activity. There is no
time to lose. When the departure thus takes
place by night, it is not rare to see the
officers shivering with cold, even in summer,
and wrap themselves in their winter clothes;
whilst, a few hours afterwards they are
bathed in perspiration, and are almost
exhausted and suffocated with heat.

The border of the Sahara is now
approached; the ground is more sandy; nothing
is to be seen, except a few wretched bushes
at wide intervals. The party has great difficulty
in finding water for the coffee, and none
is met with till the evening, on the spot where
the bivouac is installed. But, attention to
the order given out! No tents are to be
pitched; there is to be a three hours' rest,
and then a night-march. There are hopes of
surprising an enemy's camp the following
morning. "That's it," murmurs the trooper;
"the plot begins to thicken. We know what
that means. We shall have to cut along
like greyhounds; and, just as we think we
are going to lay hands on something or
other, we shall be nicely surprised to find
there is nothing to surprise."

They march all night. What a long night
it is! The foot-soldier, already fatigued when
he recommenced his march, begins to try hard
to bear up against it, and to make great efforts.
The moment when he is completely overcome
by sleep, is especially painful. In this
somnolent condition, he slumbers, stumbles,
wakes up, and slumbers again, several times
in the course of a minute; and this torture
lasts for several hours. Yet this first trial
passes off tolerably well; nevertheless, several
men, five or six only, have been obliged to
be carried in panniers by mules belonging to
the hospital service. Self-esteem is
excessively excited; emulation and esprit-de-corps
is in all its energy; the Zouaves, the
foot-rifles, the companies, and even the
different messes, strive which shall produce
the fewest weary men. In the morning, as
usual, there is no enemy to be found; and
yet, in spite of former repeated deceptions,
they had been kept up by the hope of
striking a decisive blow. One day's success,
a victory, is a recompense for all previous
suffering.

The camp is formed. The column will
soon be able to take the repose of which
it stands in great need. The aspect of the
country is that of an immense plain, covered
here and there with tufts of alfa, thyme,
wormwood, and other scrubby plants. The
scanty brushwood hardly furnishes enough
fuel to feed the kitchen fires; the water is of
moderate quality. The soldier has lost his
gaiety, but the old hand still indulges in a
little raillery. "Beggarly country," he mutters,
"with your two Bons Dieux: this week
'tis Mohammed's turn, and he means to play
us some scurvy trick!"

The next day, the march continues; the
men are warned that there will be neither
wood nor water for the coffee; every man,
therefore, makes a little faggot, which he
adds to the load upon his knapsack; every
mess, which we have seen consists of from
seven to ten men, fills the great can and the
boiler with water. Two men carry the latter
by means of a tent-pole passed under the
handle, and two others the can. What a task
for these foot-soldiers, already so hampered
and heavy laden! The day threatens to be
hot; and, before they have travelled three
hours, they are fatigued. The water,
incessantly agitated in the vessels which
contain it, exposed to a high temperature, and
receiving every instant the dust from without,
becomes muddy. The men, impatient at the
restraint imposed on their march by the
necessity of carrying a little water two by
two, complain of their sufferings. The troop
stops to make the grand halt, (the coffee,)
which ought to divide the day's march in
two, and it is scarcely seven o'clock in the
morning. At eight, they are obliged to start
again; the country becomes more and more
wretched; the heat is very great; from time
to time an old African may be heard to
grumble, "Look out for squalls; I feel my
rheumatism, or my wound; most certainly
we are going to have the sirocco!" And in
fact, before long the horizon is tinged with a
reddish glare, similar to the light which
gleams from a building on fire in the
distance; the atmosphere is filled with burning
dust; something is heard like the roar of the
sea or the growling of thunder a great way off.
There can be no mistake, it is it, the sirocco,
the terror of the desert, which comes
impetuous and scorching, licking up everything
with its tongues of fire. Men's palates are
dried up, salivation becomes impossible, the
whole interior of the mouth is parched, and