The audacity of desperation has more than once changed the face of things. Aïssa-ben-el-Sheriff, a child of fourteen, mounted on horseback with his tribe to repel an attack directed by Sid-el-Djedid. The Arbâa were beginning to give way and take to flight, when the boy, throwing himself before them, tried to stop them: "What!" he exclaimed, "You are men, and are afraid! You have been brought up in the midst of powder, and do not know how to burn it! Did you pay all that attention to your mares only to make use of them in flight?" And when the others replied, "Djedid! Djedid! Look at Djedid!" "Djedid," continued the child. "It is a single man that makes you flee! Behold, then, this terrible warrior, who puts hundreds to the rout, checked in his victorious career by a child!" With these words he dashed his spurs into his horse's flanks, and came up with the redoubtable warrior. Djedid, fearing nothing from a mere boy, was off his guard, but the latter threw himself round his neck, entwined his arms round him, and, leaving his own horse, hung by one arm, while with the other he endeavoured to stab him with his knife. Astonished at such audacity, and hampered in his movements, Djedid strove in vain to shake him off, but with all his presence of mind he was unable to parry the boy's frequent thrusts. Puzzled what to do, he slipped off his horse, hoping to crush Aïssa in his fall. The latter, however, succeeded in avoiding him, and throwing himself on the courser of the dreaded chief, rejoined his tribe, to whom he exhibited a trophy that made the oldest warrior blush for the momentary panic to which they had yielded. Were it not that the conquerors usually build a golden bridge for the conquered, the latter might be easily destroyed; but the thirst for pillage gains the day, and the victors disperse in search of plunder. One despoils a foot-soldier, another a horseman whom he has overthrown; another, again, leads away a steed, and yet another a negro. Thanks to this disorder, the bravest of the discomfited tribe succeed in saving their women, and even their tents. When the pillage is at an end, the horsemen of the victorious tribe are anxious to return home, and their chiefs encourage the desire. "We have slain numbers," say they. "We have seized their horses, captured their women, taken their guns, and refreshed our souls by making orphans of these sons of dogs. Our best plan now is to go and sleep at such a place, for the enemy, strengthened by his reinforcements, may possibly resume the offensive and attack us during the night." The baggage is sent forward in front, and, protected by a strong rearguard, during the first few days they continue their march until nightfall.