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There was, naturally, “nothing doing” at the station till very late that night, when we should have to pass the dark hours in a luggage train. Just before it was due to start, however, the Governor arrived with sardines, fruit, and bread, of which we managed to make a good dinner “on board,” actually our first meal that day, except for the commandant’s almonds.

A chair was found for me in the empty carriage, but others had to sit on the floor. We had candles and, by some means, word was sent in advance of our approach. They tell me it is quite a short journey, but I cannot help wishing that we had been able to stay in the bullock-carts.

Through that strange night—not so cold, indeed, as yesterday—we seemed to crawl on one mile and then shunt back two, to an awful accompaniment of clanging metal that made it impossible to sleep. I had only to close my eyes for a moment and our train was certain to be violently thrown back. Really, I thought my head would be shaken off my body.

As always, the cheik made heroic efforts to wile away the dark hours and distract my mind. There was no question I could ask him about Islam in vain. Here is the best I can reproduce of that fascinating lesson in faith and philosophy delivered in a luggage train by night: