Scientific American Supplement, No. 1157, March 5, 1898 | Page 7

the last few miles the camels would race for the waters, and thwart all endeavors to hold them in. My experience of the strange beast was otherwise, and subsequent events proved that I was right. When the Hamleh, as we christened our caravan, arrived, the camels quietly waited awhile after their burdens were taken from their humps. Then, as if an afterthought had struck them, they slowly approached the scoop-outs and with the most indifferent air would take a mouthful of the liquid, then, stiffening their necks, they would lift their heads and calmly survey the scenery around them, till their drivers would draw their attention to the fact that there was at least another draught of water in the pool. It should be remembered that these animals had just come off a continuous journey of nearly fifteen hours, without a halt, and had been for three whole days without water.
We left our camping ground as the sun began to dip behind the hills shutting in the khor. Our way now lay in a more northeasterly direction, and the sun threw the hills and valleys we were approaching into a marvelous medley of glorious color, and more than one of us regretted that we had not brought our color boxes with us. Sometimes we seemed to catch a glimpse of the heather-clad Highlands of Scotland. Then a twist in the khor we were traversing suggested the rugged passes of Afghanistan. Gazelle and ariel stole among the foot hills or stood gazing at us as near as a stone's throw. One of our party, Mr. Gwynne, commenced stalking a gazelle, but, darkness setting in, the beast got away. For the rest of the journey to Suakim, however, he had good sport, and saved us many a time from going hungry with his shooting for the pot.
About 34 miles from Ariab we came to one of the most interesting spots of the whole journey--the extensive Valley of Khokreb, wherein lay the deserted dervish dem, or stronghold. Here some followers of Osman Digna used to levy toll on all caravans and persons moving toward Suakim, or taking routes south. The dem consisted of a number of well built tokuls, or straw huts, standing in their compounds, with stabling for horses and pounds for cattle. The whole was surrounded with a staked wall, in front of which was a zariba of prickly mimosa bush, to stop a sudden onrush of an enemy. The place was intact, but there was not a living soul within it, or in the vast valley in which it stood, that we could see. In fact, our whole journey up to the present seemed to be through a country that might have been ravished by some plague or bore some fatal curse. As the light of the moon prevailed, we came upon an extensive plain shelving upward toward steep hills. Specks of bright light stood out against the distant background, and we presently found that the moonlight was glinting on spear heads, and soon a line of camels crept toward us, and marching as escort was a small guard of Hadendowahs, with spear and shield.
We found the convoy to be a detachment of a caravan of 160 camel loads of stores sent from Suakim to Berber by that enterprising Greek, Angelo, of the former town. They had been on the road already eight days, having to move cautiously owing to rumors of dervish activity, but had arrived so far safely. We bivouacked for several hours in the Wadi of Salalat, which was quite parklike with its fine growth of sunt trees.
When we had crossed the frontier between Bisheren and Hadendowah country we were in comparative safety regarding any molestation by the natives, for we were escorted by the son of the sheikh of one of the subtribes of the latter country. At all events, I must have been a sore temptation for any evil disposed Fuzzy Wuzzy; for, owing to my camel being badly galled by an ill-fitting saddle, I would find myself for many hours entirely alone picking my way by the light of the moon, the poor brute I was riding not being able to keep pace with the rest. All the following day our route lay over stony plains of a bolder type than any we had yet seen, and when in the heart of the Hadendowah Hills we came suddenly upon a scene in its weirdness the most extraordinary and most appallingly grand I had ever seen. A huge wilderness lay before us like the dry bed of a vast ocean, whose waters by some subterranean convulsion had been sucked into the bowels of the earth, leaving in its whirling eddies the debris of submarine mountains heaped up in rugged confusion or scattered over its sandy