Medeah! Thereupon they began talking together like comrades, all regulations notwithstanding. Prosper had grown accustomed to that Algerian life of constant alerts, a life spent on horseback, the men setting out to fight as they might have set out on some hunting excursion, some great _battue_ of Arabs. There was but one platter for each 'tribe'[18] of six men; and each 'tribe' was a family, one member of which did the cooking, whilst another did the washing, and the others pitched the tents, groomed the horses, and furbished the arms. They rode on through the morning and afternoon, laden with weighty burdens, in a heat as heavy as lead. Then in the evening they lighted large fires to drive away the mosquitoes, and gathered around to sing songs of France. During the clear, star-spangled nights it was often necessary to get up to quiet the horses, who, incommoded by the warm breeze, would suddenly begin to bite one another and tear up their pickets, neighing furiously. Then, too, there was the coffee, a great affair, the delicious coffee which they crushed in a pan and strained through one of their red regulation sashes. But there were also the black days, spent far from all human habitations, face to face with the enemy. Then there were no more camp-fires, no more songs, no more sprees. They suffered fearfully at times from thirst, hunger, and lack of sleep. Yet all the same they were fond of that adventurous life full of unexpected incidents, that skirmishing warfare so well adapted to deeds of personal bravery, and as amusing as the conquest of some island of savages, enlivened by razzias or wholesale pillaging expeditions, and by the petty thefts of the marauders, many of whose cunning exploits had become quite legendary, and made even the generals laugh. 'Ah!' said Prosper, suddenly becoming grave; 'it's not the same here; we fight differently.' In reply to further questions from Maurice, he then related their landing at Toulon, and their long and wearisome journey to Lunéville. It was there they had heard of Weissenburg and Frœschweiler. He hardly recollected their line of route after that; they had gone, he thought, from Nancy to St. Mihiel, and then on to Metz. A great battle must have been fought on the 14th, for the horizon was aglow with fire; for his own part, however, he had only seen four Uhlans behind a hedge. On the 16th there had been more fighting, the guns had begun thundering at six in the morning, and he had heard say that the dance had begun again on the 18th, more terrible than ever.[19] The Chasseurs d'Afrique, however, were then no longer with the army, for on the 16th, whilst they were drawn up along a road near Gravelotte, waiting for orders, the Emperor, who was driving off in a carriage, took them along with him to escort him to Verdun. A nice ride that was, more than twenty-six miles at a gallop, with the fear that the Prussians might intercept them at every turn of the road. 'And Bazaine?' asked Rochas.