rough or that the chechia had to much to suffer, but because whenever
he appeared on the deck the camel made such a ridiculous fuss of its
master. You never saw a camel so attached to anyone as this.

Hour by hour, when he looked through the porthole, Tartarin could see
the Algerian sky turn paler, until one morning, in a silvery mist, he
heard to his delight the bells of Marseilles. The Zouave had arrived.

Our man, who had no baggage, disembarked without a word and hurried
across Marseilles, fearing all the time that he might be followed by
the camel, and he did not breathe easily until he was seated in a
third-class railway carriage, on his way to Tarascon... a false sense of
security. They had not gone far from Marseilles when heads appeared at
windows and there were cries of astonishment, Tartarin looked out in
turn and what did he see but the inescapable camel coming down the line
behind the train with a remarkable turn of speed.

Tartarin resumed his seat and closed his eyes. After this disastrous
expedition he had counted on getting back home unrecognised, but the
presence of this confounded camel made it impossible. What a return
to make, Bon Dieu!... No money... No lions... Nothing but a camel!....
"Tarascon!... Tarascon!"... It was time to get out.

To Tartarin's utter astonishment, the heroic chechia had barely
appeared in the doorway, when it was greeted by a great cry of "Vive
Tartarin!... Vive Tartarin!" Which shook the glass vault of the station
roof. "Vive Tartarin!... Hurrah for the lion killer!" Then came fanfares
and a choir. Tartarin could have died, he thought this was a hoax: but
no, all Tarascon was there, tossing their hats in the air and shouting
his praises. There stood the brave Commandant Bravida, Costecalde the