FROM AGADI TO GULE 139 Forty-six miles of country lay between us and the next water, a burning and thirsty stretch. A blackamoor added himself to the party, leading the way with his donkey. It was but recently that this short cut had been opened, the old course trending to Soda (delightful name !), far to the south, then upwards again to Gule, so the native's assistance was welcome.

The men, knowing my strangeness to this country, appeared surprised at my naming the direction in which to proceed, and various places and gebels which came into view. They knew not the use of compass and chart, and the burning-glass equally astonished them when applied to a cigarette.

The blackamoor, too, was a cheerful soul, despite a solitary eye, and tender inquiries as to the cause of the raw, unhealed wounds on his back were once again the signal for contortions of amusement. He had probably been too gay after absorbing a skinful of merissa, and met with a well-deserved punishment.

In the driest of country I was surprised to see guinea-fowl, many and many a mile from water. The natives seem to think that, like the desert jerboa, they need none ; but the remembrance of the nightly procession of thousands of birds on the Dinder discounts such a statement. It is more likely that they know of some spot where some water remains which has not caught the eye of man ; yet it would seem a rare chance that over hundreds of years, in districts where water is more