The presence in the vicinity of a large encampment of the Oued Khalifa (one of the many subdivisions of the great Zlass tribe) having been ascertained, a strong force left El Founi to attack it. It was, however, found to be tenanted almost entirely by women, children, and decrepit old men, for the combatants had already gone southwards, leaving their tents pitched in the Douarna mountains, well out of the line of march as they imagined. This bloodless victory resulted, however, in the confiscation of 7000 sheep, 368 young camels, and 1400 oxen. After quitting El Founi for Sidi Muhamed, heavy rains considerably impeded the march, but after halts at Sidi El Medoub, Oued El Akarit and Metouia, the troops, early on the 29th November, came in sight of the palm- covered oasis of Gabes and encamped at Ras-el-Oued. During the last seven days of the march not a single living soul was met with. Contrary to General Logerot’s anticipations, the health of the troops was not appreciably affected during their advance over the almost unknown deserts of Central Tunis, and only six deaths occurred _en route_. Some weeks later an English merchant had an interview at Tripoli with Muhamed Ben Hlifa, the nephew of the Arab leader. Sidi Muhamed made merry over General Logerot’s laborious expedition. He said that whenever the French marched in compact masses, the Arabs could easily avoid them, and that often only a few miles separated the two camps. The insurgents were able to move in a day as far as the French could march in a week. This reminds me of one of the wittiest of the _Epoca’s_ Tunisian caricatures, which depicts France contemplating an army of tortoises and snails on a plain, defied by a number of Arabs on the mountains. Just before leaving Gabes I learned that an extension of the expedition in the direction of the Tripolitan frontier had been resolved upon. The wind had meanwhile shifted to another quarter, and we were carried to our boat in rather an undignified manner on the backs of some of the worldly wise Arabs of Jára, as the landing-place was no longer practicable. After sunset we anchored off the island abode of the “lotus-eaters,” but nothing could be seen of Jerba but a low coast-line, some palm-trees and a long white fort. Before we had awoke next morning we had already passed the frontier, and were skirting the barren hills of the most westerly province of the Ottoman Empire—Trabulus Gharb. CHAPTER XL. TRIPOLI IN THE WEST.