A DREARY DAY IN THE DESERT. 4*7 7 took more than ordinary precautions in the disposition of our baggage, as this part of the road was much infested with marauding bands of Kababish, who came from the side of Dar-Fur and plundered the inhabitants along the river, as well as small caravans. I trusted in the protection afforded by my tent, which, from its appearance, would be taken as belonging to an officer of the government.

On the eighth day we rose — for the first time in all my African travel — in a cold, raw and cloudy dawn. Fortunately for us, a company of merchants, bound for Wadi-Halfa, passed at daybreak, for we entered on an akaba of unknown length, and the wind had blown so violently within the last few days that the old caravan trail was not to be found. The country was a wilderness even more drear than those we had passed.

On climbing the long stony surges, I sometimes flattered myself with the hope of seeing beyond the Desert ; but no — I had only a more extended horizon. Long, shadowy streaks of rain swept along the eastern horizon, and the mountain- chains which lay against them were colored the darkest and intensest shade of violet— precisely that of the lower leaves of the pansy. As we advanced, the air grew colder, and a shower of large, scattering drops passed over us. The camels shrank and trembled, and my men crept behind them for shelter. Though it was a satisfaction to know that those African skies can rain sometimes, I was soon so benumbed as to need my capote.

The temperature was perhaps not lower than 60°, yet I felt it severely. About ten o'clock, the shekh's camel, which had before shown symptoms of fatigue, lay down and refused to go further. As it was impossible to stop in the Desert, I distributed its load among the other four, and ordered him to