“The General was ill-pleased when he heard it, and half for arresting Rire-pour-tout; but—­sacre!—­the thing was done; our honor was involved; he had engaged to fight these men, and engaged for us to let them go in peace afterward; there was no more to be said, unless we had looked like cowards, or traitors, or both.  There was a wide, level plateau in front of our camp, and the hills were at our backs—­a fine field for the duello; and, true to time, the Arabs filed on to the plain, and fronted us in a long line, with their standards, and their crescents, and their cymbals and reed-pipes, and kettle-drums, all glittering and sounding.  Sac a papier!  There was a show, and we could not fight one of them!  We were drawn up in line—­Horse, Foot, and Artillery—­Rire-pour-tout all alone, some way in advance; mounted, of course.  The General and the Sheik had a conference; then the play began.  There were six Arabs picked out—­the flower of the army—­all white and scarlet, and in their handsomest bravery, as if they came to an aouda.  They were fine men—­diable!—­they were fine men.  Now the duel was to be with swords; these had been selected; and each Arab was to come against Rire-pour-tout singly, in succession.  Our drums rolled the pas de charge, and their cymbals clashed; they shouted ‘Fantasia!’ and the first Arab rode at him.  Rire-pour-tout sat like a rock, and lunge went his steel through the Bedouin’s lung, before you could cry hola!—­a death-stroke, of course; Rire-pour-tout always killed:  that was his perfect science.  Another and another and another came, just as fast as the blood flowed.  You know what the Arabs are—­vous autres?  How they wheel and swerve and fight flying, and pick up their saber from the ground, while their horse is galloping ventre a terre, and pierce you here and pierce you there, and circle round you like so many hawks?  You know how they fought Rire-pour-tout then, one after another, more like devils than men.  Mort de Dieu! it was a magnificent sight!  He was gashed here and gashed there; but they could never unseat him, try how they would; and one after another he caught them sooner or later, and sent them reeling out of their saddles, till there was a great red lake of blood all round him, and five of them lay dead or dying down in the sand.  He had mounted afresh twice, three horses had been killed underneath him, and his jacket all hung in strips where the steel had slashed it.  It was grand to see, and did one’s heart good; but—­ventre bleu!—­how one longed to go in too.

“There was only one left now—­a young Arab, the Sheik’s son, and down he came like the wind.  He thought with the shock to unhorse Rire-pour-tout, and finish him then at his leisure.  You could hear the crash as they met, like two huge cymbals smashing together.  Their chargers hit and tore at each other’s manes; they were twined in together there as if they were but one man and one beast; they shook and they swayed and they rocked;