der twigs of the little garden.
Then, advancing towards the brave officer, he took his hand, grasped it
energetically, and said in a voice somewhat tearful, but stoical for all
that:

"I am going, Bravida."

And go he did, as he said he would. Not straight off though, for it
takes time to get the paraphernalia together.

To begin with, he ordered of Bompard two large boxes bound with brass,
and an inscription to be on them:

-----------------------------------------
I TARTARIN, OF TARASCON I
I Firearms, &c. I
-----------------------------------------

The binding in brass and the lettering took much time. He also
ordered at Tastavin's a showy album, in which to keep a diary and his
impressions of travel; for a man cannot help having an idea or two
strike him even when he is busy lion-hunting.

Next, he had over from Marseilles a downright cargo of tinned
eatables, pemmican compressed in cakes for making soup, a new pattern
shelter-tent, opening out and packing up in a minute, sea-boots, a
couple of umbrellas, a waterproof coat, and blue spectacles to ward off
ophthalmia. To conclude, Bezuquet the chemist made him up a miniature
portable medicine chest stuffed with diachylon plaister, arnica,
camphor, and medicated vinegar.

Poor Tartarin! he did not take these safeguards on his own behalf;
but he hoped, by dint of precaution and delicate attentions, to allay
Sancho-Tartarin's fury, who, since the start was fixed, never left off
raging day or night.

XIII. The Departure.

EFTSOON arrived the great and solemn day. From dawn all Tarascon had
been on foot, encumbering the Avignon road and the approaches to Baobab
Villa. People were up at the windows, on the roofs, and in the trees;
the Rhone bargees, porters, dredgers, shoeblacks, gentry, tradesfolk,
warpers and weavers, taffety-workers, the club members, in short the
whole town; moreover, people from Beaucaire had come over the bridge,
market-gardeners from the environs, carters in their huge carts with
ample tilts, vinedressers upon handsome mules, tricked out with ribbons,
streamers, bells, rosettes, and jingles, and even, here and there, a few
pretty maids from Arles, come on the pillion behind their sweethearts,
with bonny blue ribbons round the head, upon little iron-grey Camargue
horses.

All this swarm squeezed and jostled before our good Tartarin's door, who
was going t