My Arms Were Peeled Even In The Month Of December; And My Companions, Panting With The Heat, Like The Atlantes Of Herodotus, Poured Forth Reproaches Upon The Rising Sun.

The townspeople, when forced to hurry across it in the hotter season, cover themselves during the day with Tobes wetted every half hour in sea water; yet they are sometimes killed by the fatal thirst which the Simum engenders.

Even the Bedouins are now longing for rain; a few weeks' drought destroys half their herds.

Early in the afternoon our Abban and a woman halted for a few minutes, performed their ablutions, and prayed with a certain display: satisfied apparently, with the result, they never repeated the exercise. About sunset we passed, on the right, clumps of trees overgrowing a water called "Warabod", the Hyena's Well; this is the first Marhalah or halting-place usually made by travellers to the interior. Hence there is a direct path leading south-south-west, by six short marches, to the hills. Our Abban, however, was determined that we should not so easily escape his kraal. Half an hour afterwards we passed by the second station, "Hangagarri", a well near the sea: frequent lights twinkling through the darkening air informed us that we were in the midst of the Eesa. At 8 P.M. we reached "Gagab", the third Marhalah, where the camels, casting themselves upon the ground, imperatively demanded a halt. Raghe was urgent for an advance, declaring that already he could sight the watchfires of his Rer or tribe [12]; but the animals carried the point against him. They were presently unloaded and turned out to graze, and the lariats of the mules, who are addicted to running away, were fastened to stones for want of pegs [13]. Then, lighting a fire, we sat down to a homely supper of dates.

The air was fresh and clear; and the night breeze was delicious after the steamy breath of day. The weary confinement of walls made the splendid expanse a luxury to the sight, whilst the tumbling of the surf upon the near shore, and the music of the jackal, predisposed to sweet sleep. We now felt that at length the die was cast. Placing my pistols by my side, with my rifle butt for a pillow, and its barrel as a bed-fellow, I sought repose with none of that apprehension which even the most stout-hearted traveller knows before the start. It is the difference between fancy and reality, between anxiety and certainty: to men gifted with any imaginative powers the anticipation must ever be worse than the event. Thus it happens, that he who feels a thrill of fear before engaging in a peril, exchanges it for a throb of exultation when he finds himself hand to hand with the danger.

The "End of Time" volunteered to keep watch that night. When the early dawn glimmered he aroused us, and blew up the smouldering fire, whilst our women proceeded to load the camels.

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