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It was absolutely futile for me to think of an attempt at anything except that of securing myself and reaching the heart of the city. At this juncture, and to my great surprise, I was delighted to see, coming out of one of the narrow streets, my friend Mr. O’Mally the pedestrian and his interpreter. Recognizing him instantly, I informed him as to what had happened, which brought a cry from his interpreter for the gendarmes and soldiers. In a few moments the soldiers and police had arrived, and I led them in the direction the bandits had taken, but at night it is impossible to distinguish one Moor from another, for like Chinese they all look alike at night; therefore, the soldiers contented themselves in beating them indiscriminately, as the Moor is the French soldier’s bitterest enemy.

These soldiers, unlike the American soldier, carry their side arms when off duty, and it was with great difficulty that the gendarmes prevented some of the Moors from being killed. At one stage of the game we had a battle royal, and there are a number of Moors in the “Kasbah” who carry scars as evidence of this night’s fracas.