More
we advanced into the mountainous region the more agreeable and
pleasant did we feel it, and we enjoyed the sight of splendid and
luxuriant vegetation.
On the 25th we crossed the Anseba, a large river flowing from the
high lands of Bogos, Hamasien, and Mensa, and joining the river
Barka at Tjab. [Footnote: Tjab, lat. 17 10', long. 37 15'.]
We spent a pleasant day in the beautiful Anseba valley, but aware
of the danger of remaining after sunset near its flowery but malarious
banks, we pitched our tent on a rising ground at some distance, and
the next morning proceeded to Haboob, the highest point we had to
gain before descending into the Barka through the difficult pass
of Lookum. After this abrupt descent of more than 2,000 feet, the
roads generally slope towards the low land of Barka.
From Ain to Haboob [Footnote: The Anseba, at the point we crossed,
is about 4,000 feet above the level of the sea; Haboob about 4,500.]
the country is well wooded, and watered by innumerable small streams.
The soil is formed of the detritus of the volcanic rocks, specially
of feldspar; pumice abounds in the ravines. The channels of the
rivulets are the only roads for the traveller. This mountain chain
is, on the whole, a pleasant spot, more delightful for the reason
that it rises between the arid shores of the Red Sea and the flat,
hot, and level plains of the Soudan. The province of Barka is a
boundless prairie, about 2,500 feet above the level of the sea,
covered at the time of our journey with half-dried grass some five
or six feet high, and dotted here and there with small woods of
stunted mimosas.
From Barka to Metemma we find alluvium as the general formation.
Water is scarce; even a month after the rainy season all the rivers
are dried up, and water is only obtained by digging in the sand of
the dry beds of the river Barka and its tributaries. When we passed
through these plains many spots were still green; but a few months
later we should have crossed a parched-up prairie little better
than the desert itself.
Our pretty songsters of Ain were no more to be seen. The guinea-fowl
was seldom met with, and only a few tiny antelopes wandered over
the solitary expanse. Instead, we were aroused by the roar of the
lion, the laugh of the hyena, and we had to protect our sheep and
goats, as the spotted leopard was lurking around our tents.
On the 31st of October we reached Zaga, a large sloping plain
situated at the junction of the Barka and the Mogareib. Water can
be obtained at that spot by digging wells in the dried-up beds of
the rivers, in sufficient quantity to have induced the Beni Amer
to make it their winter encamping-ground.
We had that day made a very long march, on account of the absence
of water on the road. Starting at two P.M., we only reached our
halting ground (the bed of a dried-up winter torrent, a few hundred
yards below the Beni Amer's camp), a couple of hours before daybreak.
We were so sleepy and tired that during the latter part of the stage
it had been with great difficulty that we managed to keep in the
saddle; and no sooner did our guide give us the grateful intelligence
that we had arrived, than we stretched on the ground the piece of
tanned cowhide we carried with us, and covering ourselves with our
cloaks, lay down to rest until daybreak. I offered to Mr. Marcopoli
to share my "bedding," as his own had not arrived, and in a few
minutes we both fell into that deep slumber that follows the
exhaustion of a long weary march. I remember my disgust at being
violently shaken by my bed companion; who, in a faint and trembling
voice, whispered into my ear: "Look there!" I understood at once
his look of anguish and terror, for two splendid lions, not more
than twenty paces from us, were drinking near the wells that had
been sank by the Arabs. I thought, and told my companion, that as
we had no fire-arms with us; the wisest plan was to go to sleep and
remain as quiet as possible. I set him the example, and only woke
up late in the morning, when the sun was already high up and pouring
its burning rays over my uncovered head. Marcopoli, with an absent
terrified look impressed on his countenance, was still sitting near
me. He told me that he had not slept, but kept watching the lions:
they had remained for a long time, drinking, roaring and beating
their sides with their tails; and even when they departed he kept
listening to their dreadful roar, sounding more distant as the first
rays of day appeared.
We had, no doubt, had a narrow escape, as that night a lion had
carried away a man and a child who had strayed from the Arab
encampment. The Sheik of the Beni Amer, during the few days we
remained at Zaga, with true Arab hospitality, always placed at
night a strong guard around our tent, to watch the large fires that
they kindle in order to keep at a respectful distance these unwelcome
night rovers.
We had agreed with the Hababs that we would exchange camels at this
spot, but none could be obtained for love or money. It was lucky
for us that the Bedouins had by this time found out that all white
men are not Turks, otherwise we should have been cast helpless in
the very centre of Barka.
