Of course our independence of General Drude revived as we got to a place of more or less security, and we swung away from him towards the right flank. Choosing a good point from which to watch the engagement, we saluted the captain of a line of Algerians and lay down among the men. Below us, in plain view, not a quarter of a mile away, was the camp of the Moors, about four hundred tents, ragged and black with dirt, some of them old circular army tents, but mostly patched coverings of sacking such as are to be seen all over Morocco. It was to destroy this camp, discovered by the balloon, that the French army had come out, and we had managed to come over the knoll at the moment that the first flames were applied to it. Just beyond the camp the squalid village of Taddert, beneath a cluster of holy tombs, a place of pilgrimage, was already afire. The Moors at Taddert had evidently been taken by surprise. They left most of their possessions behind in the camp, getting away with only their horses and their guns. A soldier of the Foreign Legion came back driving three undersized donkeys, and carrying several short, pot-like Moorish drums. We spoke to him and he told us that they had taken seven prisoners and had shot them. The Arabs hung about the hills, keeping constantly on the move to avoid shells. Organisation among them seemed totally lacking and ammunition was evidently scarce. Once in a while a horseman or a group of two or three would come furiously charging down to within a mile of the guns and, turning to retire again, would send a wild shot or two in our direction. Wherever a group of more than three appeared, a shell burst over their heads and scattered their frightened horses, sometimes riderless. The fight was entirely one-sided, yet the French general seemed unwilling to risk a close engagement that might cost the lives of many of his men. After an hour my companion, though under fire for the first time, became, as he put it, ‘exceedingly bored,’ and lying down on the ground as if for a nap, asked me to wake him ‘if the Moors should come within photographing distance.’ I suggested that he might have a look at them with a pair of glasses and that he might borrow those of a young officer who had just come up. ‘Monsoor,’ he said, rising and saluting the officer, ‘_Permettez moi à user votre binoculaires, s’il vous plaît?_’ ‘You want to look through my glasses?--certainly,’ came the reply. ‘There, you see that shot; it is meant for those Moroccans converging on the sky-line. There, it explodes. It got four of them. It was well aimed. These are splendid guns we have. No other country has such guns. I should say many of the Moors are killed to-day. Not less than three hundred. What is that? Give me my things! Pardon, it is only _les Goumiers_. They look like Moroccans but of course we must not shoot them!’