Hassi-Inifel: thirty native Arabs and four Europeans--myself, the
Sergeant, a Corporal, and Gourrut. The threat was terrible. It had its
effect.

"All right, then, Lieutenant," he said with a great sigh. "But
afterwards you must not blame me for having told you things about a
superior which should not be told and come only from the talk I
overheard at mess."

"Tell away."

"It was in 1899. I was then Mess Sergeant at Sfax, with the 4th
Spahis. I had a good record, and besides, as I did not drink, the
Adjutant had assigned me to the officers' mess. It was a soft berth.
The marketing, the accounts, recording the library books which were
borrowed (there weren't many), and the key of the wine cupboard,--for
with that you can't trust orderlies. The Colonel was young and dined
at mess. One evening he came in late, looking perturbed, and, as soon
as he was seated, called for silence:

"'Gentlemen,' he said, 'I have a communication to make to you, and I
shall ask for your advice. Here is the question. Tomorrow morning the
_City of Naples_ lands at Sfax. Aboard her is Captain de Saint-Avit,
recently assigned to Feriana, en route to his post.'

"The Colonel paused. 'Good,' thought I, 'tomorrow's menu is about to
be considered.' For you know the custom, Lieutenant, which has existed
ever since there have been any officers' clubs in Africa. When an
officer is passing by, his comrades go to meet him at the boat and