II
THE NATION'S SPIRIT AND A NEW INHERITANCE
We left that stricken but undefeated town, dodged a few miles
down the roads beside which the women tended their cows, and
dropped into a place on a hill where a Moroccan regiment of
many experiences was in billets.
They were Mohammedans bafflingly like half a dozen of our
Indian frontier types, though they spoke no accessible tongue.
They had, of course, turned the farm buildings where they lay
into a little bit of Africa in colour and smell. They had
been gassed in the north; shot over and shot down, and set up
to be shelled again; and their officers talked of North
African wars that we had never heard of--sultry days against
long odds in the desert years ago. "Afterward--is it not so
with you also?--we get our best recruits from the tribes we
have fought. These men are children. They make no trouble.
They only want to go where cartridges are burnt. They are of
the few races to whom fighting is a pleasure."
"And how long have you dealt with them?"
"A long time--a long time. I helped to organize the corps. I
am one of those whose heart is in Africa." He spoke slowly,
almost feeling for his French words, and gave some order. I
shall not forget his eyes as he turned to a huge, brown,
Afreedee-like Mussulman hunkering down beside his
accoutrements.
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