The situation was full of peril.  The deira had never been so exposed.  The ammunition was expended and the infantry was thus counted out of the fight.  Abd-el-Kader could only depend on his “Old Guard”—­his matchless cavalry.  At length the Melouia was passed, and, although the foe was pressing on, he would not leave its bank until the noncombatants had gained a full hour in advance.  Then the deira crossed another stream and reached a place of safety, for the time, on French territory.  Not a life had been lost nor a beast of burden of all that crowd of men, women, children, and animals.  Coolness, intrepidity, and skill had been their protectors.  Of the fighting men, however, more than two hundred had been slain, and nearly all the rest were suffering from wounds.

Abd-el-Kader now turned toward the hills inhabited by a tribe which still, in part, adhered to him.  His horsemen followed him in anxious silence, suffering and exhausted.  The rain fell in torrents.  Their chief was tormented by conflicting thoughts.  A French camp was visible in the distance, three hours’ march away, occupying a pass.  He and his cavalry might yet escape by narrow defiles into the Sahara.  But what of his aged mother, his wife and children, his helpless followers in the deira?  All would become captives to the foe.  He called his men around him and reminded them of the oath which, eight years before on the renewal of the war, they had taken at Medea that they would never forsake him in any danger or suffering.  All declared themselves ready still to adhere to it.  He set before them the peril of the people in the deira and suggested submission.  All the warriors cried:  “Perish women and children so long as you are safe and able to renew the battles of God.  You are our head, our Sultan; fight or surrender, as you will, we will follow you wherever you choose to lead.”  After a few moments’ pause Abd-el-Kader declared that the struggle was over.  The tribes were tired of the war and there was nothing left but submission.  He would ask the French for a safe-conduct for himself and his family, and for all who chose to follow him, to another Mussulman country.  The universal answer was, “Sultan, let your will be done!”

The incessant rain rendered it impossible to write down any terms.  Abd-el-Kader therefore affixed his seal to a piece of paper, and despatched it in charge of two horsemen to the French general as a sign of authorization on his part for demands to be verbally made.  It was Lamoriciere who received the two emissaries; and he sent a verbal reply, acceding to all proposals.  Abd-el-Kader then sent a letter, and received in reply a written promise and stipulation that the Sultan and his family should be conducted to St. Jean d’Acre or Alexandria.  The new Governor-General, the Duc d’Aumale, was close at hand, and on the evening of December 23, 1847, the fallen hero, attended by some of his chiefs and men, escorted by five hundred French cavalry, who showed