132 FROM BINDER, AND NILE TO NILE Fadl el IMullah looked sour, and Bachit lagged behind. The camelcade straggled to a mile-long line ; the water-skins grew empty and flabby, and camels complained.

Then in the gloom the dark form of a mountain appeared, and for miles we skirted it, passing at last to its farther end, and reaching, thank God, the " slavery post " of Gebel Gerri.

Even here there was so little water that it was carefully kept for the use of the police, whose posts are neatly arranged and tidily kept, being fenced in with grass and well swept, and for the folk of the small village near.

Now only six hours away is Roseires, where I am to cross the Blue Nile, nearly 400 miles from its junction with the White Nile at Khartoum, on a still harder journey. The river was struck some miles above the town, and the vegetation was an extraordinary change to that among which I had been for some weeks. It was bigger and thicker and denser. Instead of thin, naked trunks of wideapart trees were masses of thick foliage reaching the ground. The tebeldi-trees were numerous, and formed a particular feature of the locality. The ground, too, was hilly, and the track had expanded into a broad, smooth road along which the beasts travelled gaily, scenting the river and looking for rest.

So here was once more civilization ; days and weeks of only Arab companionship were past. One had visions of enormous baths, easy-chairs,