In the Foreign Legion

e of the French Colonies : The Colonial hotel : A study in blue and yellow : On the Mediterranean : The ship's cook : The sto

mongst us, a franc for each man, that being the meagre subsistence allowance given us

y arm prompted me to look persistently at the ground. I was afraid of readin

uctor watched with great care. He was a Frenchman and a patriot and had his suspicions that these new sons of France might have the perfidy to break faith and leave the train at some place other than Marseilles. He therefore kept a sharp look-out-occupying a good strategic position right in front of our car-whenever the train stopped at

ur patriotic conductor run along the platform,

his human semaphore. The conductor was a taxpayer an

tted along the sidewalk at a respectful distance. Without doubt he had no desire that any one should connect him with us. He was q

ticulating, ever talking. Ship lay by ship. Elegant steam yachts were moored alongside of unkempt tramp-steamers, whose neglected appearance told of the troubles of money-making on the high seas. There were Levantine barques with funny round sails, whose crews were dressed in flannel shirts of

ropelled by the heavy fists of men who apparently could not work without a tremendous amount of yelling and scream

. Jean it is called. Over the medi?val drawbridge of the fort we marched. An enormous oaken door was opened by a couple of sentries. As we entered, a volley of whistles and yells greeted us-the salute for the new légionnaires of Fr

r la Légion!" (Here are t

I asked a Spahi corporal wh

fficially recruits are called 'les jeunes soldats,'

at it mean

oleon wore very stiff cravats to give shape to the high collars of their uniforms. These cravats are said to have been torture. They held the head like a vice, and it took a long time to get use

he always figures as "Herr

look at the fellows w

eir spacious red trousers in picturesque folds.

ngle pair of these pants I could make pants for a whole

out half a yard in breadth, to his hip, and turn quickly about while his comrade held the other end, keeping the sash tight and tense until his brother-in-arms wa

long time. We could wait, we should wait, being nasty recruits, blues, nom de Dieu. Mumbling further things descriptive of how he despised blues he went off. Then came soldiers, carrying on boards long rows of little tin bowls. The Spahis and Zouaves crowded at once round the steaming pots, but Herr von Rader hurled himself in the fray, and captured portions for all of us. It was thus that I made the acquaint

ittle door. There was an awful din inside. We sat down at one of the long tables and were served with the French army wine at fifteen centimes a bottle. Good wine,

efooted. The owner of the canteen, however (who evidently thought the buying of good boots at half a franc a good thing), solved the difficulty. Out of some corner he conjured a pair of shoes such as

to me in the vain endeavour to talk me out of the overcoat. But the "poor man" had a much too prosperous look about him. Moreover, a Zouave whispered in my ear that the cochon of a canteen-keeper was getting rich by his little "business." So I told him to go to a place which we generally consider hot and disagreeable. Then the fat man tried it with the others, and made excellent bargains. For a few copper piec

even out of the poor devils

s. They commanded a view of the whole of Marseilles. The city and the port were enveloped in a curious yellowish light, the bright yellow of the South. Through a veil of yellow I saw the enormous massive street-blocks of Lower Marseilles, and far away the little villas of the

t. Jean and the vis-à-vis, an ochre-coloured rocky promontory, there was

ing to and fro, like a pendulum. From time to time he spat to the whispering waters be

s old days. Its artillery had been sold for old iron long ago. It had ceased to be a fighting machine. It was a resting-place, an hotel for the recruits of France's colonial army to pass a day and a ni

e gate to the Legion of Honour, for the majority the gate to suffering

d would lead me, in what

we were transported to Af

little islands wrapped in blue mist, playing hide-and-seek, until the sun appeared. Now the game was over and the veil of mist disappeared. The hills and the houses lay glorious in an ocean of colour. There wa

scaped again, amidst fun and laughter, and ran off to inspect our ship. They struck the ship's sides and seemed very much surprised that they were so solid. They said so plainly enough, making a great deal of noise and fuss about it. But they soon

ll was

t steps of the world's ladder, but I had not expected contempt, disd

the Mediterranean to Oran, had made a miserable bargain when hiring that cook. The thing was called Jacques. It even answered o

nd day we were still waiting, very hungry indeed, for our first meal, and I thought it time to have a talk

nform me that according to his opinion dirty légionnaires were expressly made to do a lot of waiting. If he should happen to have

w to a nicety how to arran

e Germans and cannot talk French. But they are very good at smashing things. They're quite experts at t

ed the cook dubiousl

ikely they'll kill you. I a

t he cursed volubly, then he dived into his dark hole of a kitchen and fetched out a tin filled with macaroni, a number of loaves of br

n the Algerian coast. I sincerely hope it was the packet

the Foreign Legion and ventured among the third-class passengers to have a look at his new recruits. Being a Bel

r me if I foregathered with Frenchmen only in the Legion. My French needed cultivating badly, said the sergeant. Then

ed, and all of the non-commissioned officers killed at the first attack. Now the young German took command and led a furious onslaught on the attacking Arabs, managing to hold out until help came. Shot in the breast he was carried into camp, and the colonel of the regiment gave his own Cr

ed. A week later a veiled lady appeared in Saida to take the body to the Fatherland. Chevaliers of the Legion of Honour

lieve this yarn?" I

" said he, very serious

of the Legion, told from légionnaire to légionnaire, and I have often wondered how much truth there may be in the legend. Very likely the man of Saida h

for a nation whose language even they did not understand. Sandstone cliffs formed a rugged coast-line. From their heights batteries were firing. The target was pontooned in

rs," he said; "anyway, at shooting with the ol

n, the old grey-haired sergeant, e

hey were mounted, I could see nothing. High up on the crags the heavy cannon had been built in, behind little sandhills, flanked by large rocks, t

ulously small, just a little square, its room quite taken up by twelve torpedo-boats, two small cruisers and half a dozen merchant ships. We had hardly touched the pier when a corporal jumped on board. The famous corporal of th

rmous loads on their heads; taciturn Arabs stood around, wrapped from head to foot in white burnous-cloth; officers promenaded with their women-folk and

r, les

ing typical about them until we began to pass through little alleys and bywa

ng to the barracks high up in the hills. The road swept in mighty curves along the cliffs. After an hour of marching we came to some very antiquated barracks. They were a counterpart of Fort St. Jean in Marseilles, one of the milita

een feet long and six feet broad, were to form our bed. There was a pitcher of water in one corner and a pile

good enough for a dog! I found a snug, quiet little corner in the courtyard and lay down, wrapped in

figures were old légionnaires, on special duty to keep the barracks in order. Did I like the Algerian wine? They wanted to know. I did not know anyt

] that we haven't the [here followed a similar ornate flo

de my first purchase in Afr

y the jingling of bottles presumably. The knocking

it?" I

I suppose," said one of the lég

at could happen to a légionnaire. We all went to the door of the cell. There was a

a gruff voi

ther's shoulders and emptied the conte

ght!" said the

ked up for?" I

the s

hoisted sail, and sailed joyfully away. Spain was not far, and luck was with the deserter. In exactly seventeen hours the légionnaire reached the Spanish coast. He had landed at a very desolate spot, but after hunting about he managed to find fishermen's huts. Presently he was the guest of rough coast Spaniards, who did not quite know what to make of the man in red breeches. He got dried fish and nice clear water to live on. Reddy had forgotten all about civilian life, but in his dreams of freedom dried fish and water had not cut a special figure. He did not like it. He changed his mind, however, when a pretty Spanish girl appeared. The girl happened to be the wife of the man who had fed Reddy. The légionnaire neither knew nor cared. He chatted with the girl for an hour or so in a mixture of French and bits of Spani

th a sense of humour and Reddy got

ent to the penal battalion. That means dying by inches, you

ry funny, this tragical adventure of a man who knew how to fight for the freedom

ars in the For