One day the captain of the Zouave came across him in the town, and
showed him a note about himself in a Tarascon newspaper. This spoke of
the uncertainty that prevailed as to the fate of the great hunter, and
wound up with these words:
"Some Negro traders state, however, that they met in the open desert a
European whose description answers to that of Tartarin, and who was
making tracks for Timbuctoo. May Heaven guard for us our hero!"
Tartarin went red and white by turns as he read this, and realised that
he was in for it. He very much wished to return to his beloved Tarascon,
but to go there without having shot some lions--one at least--was
impossible, and so it was Southward ho!
_III.--Tartarin's Adventures in the Desert_
The lion-hunter was keenly disappointed, after a very long journey in
the stage-coach, to be told that there was not a lion left in all
Algeria, though a few panthers might still be found worth shooting.
He got out at the town of Milianah, and let the coach go on, as he
thought he might as well take things easily if, after all, there were no
lions to be shot. To his amazement, however, he came across a real live
lion at the door of a café.
"What made them say there were no more lions?" he cried, astounded at
the sight. The lion lifted in its mouth a wooden bowl from the pavement,
and a passing Arab threw a copper in the bowl, at which the lion wagged
its tail. Suddenly the truth dawned on Tartarin. He was a poor, blind,
tame lion, which a couple of negroes were taking through the streets,
just like a performing dog. His blood was up at the very idea. Shouting,
"You scoundrels, to humiliate these noble beasts so!" he rushed and took
the degrading bowl from the royal jaws of the lion. This led to a
quarrel with the negroes, at the height of which Prince Gregory of
Montenegro came upon the scene.
The prince told him a most untrue story about a convent in the north of
Africa where lions were kept, to be sent out with priests to beg for
money. He also assured him that there were lots of lions in Algeria, and
that he would join him in his hunt.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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