But The Camels Of Damascus Were Now Worn Out With Fatigue;
They Could Not Endure The Sun, And Our Time Was Too Precious For A
Halt.
My night was spent perched upon the front bar of my Shugduf,
encouraging the dromedary; and that we had not one fall excited my
extreme astonishment.
At five A.M. (Thursday, 8th September) we entered
a wide plain thickly clothed with the usual thorny trees, in whose
strong grasp many a Shugduf lost its covering, and not a few were
dragged with their screaming inmates to the ground. About five hours
afterwards we crossed a high ridge, and saw below us the camp of the
Caravan, not more than two miles distant. As we approached it, a figure
came running out to meet us. It was the boy Mohammed, who, heartily
tired of riding a dromedary with his friend, and possibly hungry,
hastened to inform my companion Abdullah that he would lead him to his
Shugduf and to his son. The Shaykh, a little offended by the fact that
for two days not a friend nor an acquaintance had taken the trouble to
see or to inquire about him, received Mohammed roughly; but the youth,
guessing the grievance, explained it away by swearing that he and all
the party had tried in vain to find us. This wore the semblance of
truth: it is almost impossible to come upon any one who strays from his
place in so large and motley a body.
[p.136]At eleven A.M. we had reached our station.
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