The Boniface burst out in laughter. “Ho, ho! bless us! lions! What would we do with lions here?” “Are there, then, none in Algeria?” “‘Pon my faith, I never saw any, albeit I have been twenty years in the colony. Still, I believe I have heard tell of such a thing--leastwise, I fancy the newspapers said--but that is ever so much farther inland--down South, you know”-- At this point they reached the hostelry, a suburban pothouse, with a withered green bough over the door, crossed billiard-cues painted on the wall, and this harmless sign over a picture of wild rabbits, feeding: “GAME FELLOWS MEET HERE.” “Game fellows!” It made Tartarin think of Captain Bravida. VII. About an Omnibus, a Moorish Beauty, and a Wreath of Jessamine. COMMON people would have been discouraged by such a first adventure, but men of Tartarin’s mettle do not easily get cast down. “The lions are in the South, are they?” mused the hero. “Very well, then. South I go.” As soon as he had swallowed his last mouthful he jumped up, thanked his host, nodded good-bye to the old hag without any ill-will, dropped a final tear over the hapless Blackey, and quickly returned to Algiers, with the firm intention of packing up and starting that very day for the South. The Mustapha highroad seemed, unfortunately, to have stretched since overnight; and what a sun and dust there were, and what a weight in that shelter-tent! Tartarin did not feel to have the courage to walk to the town, and he beckoned to the first omnibus coming along, and climbed in. Oh, our poor Tartarin of Tarascon! how much better it would have been for his name and fame not to have stepped into that fatal ark on wheels, but to have continued on his road afoot, at the risk of falling suffocated beneath the burden of the atmosphere, the tent, and his heavy double-barrelled rifles. When Tartarin got in the ‘bus was full. At the end, with his nose in his prayer-book, sat a large and black-bearded vicar from town; facing him was a young Moorish merchant smoking coarse cigarettes, and a Maltese sailor and four or five Moorish women muffled up in white cloths, so that only their eyes could be spied.