At 7 P.M., as evening was closing in, we came upon the fresh trail of a
large Habr Awal cavalcade. The celebrated footprint seen by Robinson
Crusoe affected him not more powerfully than did this "daaseh" my
companions. The voice of song suddenly became mute. The women drove the
camels hurriedly, and all huddled together, except Raghe, who kept well to
the front ready for a run. Whistling with anger, I asked my attendants
what had slain them: the End of Time, in a hollow voice, replied, "Verily,
0 pilgrim, whoso seeth the track, seeth the foe!" and he quoted in tones
of terror those dreary lines--
"Man is but a handful of dust,
And life is a violent storm."
We certainly were a small party to contend against 200 horsemen,--nine men
and two women: moreover all except the Hammal and Long Guled would
infallibly have fled at the first charge.
Presently we sighted the trails of sheep and goats, showing the proximity
of a village: their freshness was ascertained by my companions after an
eager scrutiny in the moon's bright beams. About half an hour afterwards,
rough ravines with sharp and thorny descents warned us that we had
exchanged the dangerous plain for a place of safety where horsemen rarely
venture.
