THE SONG OF THE ASS 77 a lion within recent days, and whose horns and scattered bones alone remained.

The sun descended and darkness fell before we located, as we thought, the position of our camp. The moon had not appeared ; the ground was rough and broken ; every few steps landed us in water or boggy land. The bush closed around us ; thorn branches appeared endowed with malevolent life, and only silence met the calling of the men. It became obvious that we had badly missed our mark, and visions of a bedless night in the forest depths rose before us. But a distant song broke in on our lucubrations—a famiHar rhythm which oft in the stilly night had wakened sleepers and attracted carnivora. The senseless advertisement that here in the flesh, and blind in the darkness, was the favourite food of lions, in this instance proved our guide, and slowly we stumbled onward, guided by the hideous braying of Ibrahim's ass.

Truly, the light-built Arab is not such a trial to his steed as is the European of stouter build. But the wide cracks in the soil and its unstable character might be thought sufficiently onerous under even a light-weight. Yet the donkey, with unshod feet, still plugged easily along when Ibrahim mounted without halting, merely placing his right foot on the donkey's neck and shunting himself lightly back into position.

Wad-el-Hag is a relic of bygone days. Now merely a name, it was the site of the farthest up-river permanent village in the days before the JNlahdi rose.