Scientific American Supplement, No. 1157, March 5, 1898 | Page 4

the
odd number somewhere to keep the club fresh in his memory, he
occasionally sat upon it.
I found, after all, there was some wisdom in his eccentricity, for, when
riding the camel, mounted on the rough saddle of the country, I often
wished that I had my friend's forethought, and I should have been glad
to have supplemented mine with his odd number. No doubt my
colleague's idea in having such a variety of nether garments was to use
them respectively, on a similar principle to the revolvers, when he rode
in hot haste with his vivid account of the latest battle to the telegraph
office.

But, unfortunately, this recent campaign did not, after all, necessitate
these elaborate preparations, for there were no dervishes for us to shoot
at or descriptions of bloody battles to be telegraphed. At all events, the
cloudy ammonia and the thirteen breeches, with the assistance of a
silken sash--a different color for each day of the week--made the
brightest and smartest looking little man in camp. However, when I
reflect on this new style of war correspondent, who, I forgot to mention,
also carried with him two tents, a couple of beds, sundry chairs and
tables, a silver-mounted dressing case, two baths, and a gross of
toothpicks, and I think of the severe simplicity of the old style of
campaigning when a famous correspondent who is still on the warpath,
and who always sees the fighting if there be any, on one arduous
campaign took with him the modest outfit of a tooth brush and a cake
of carbolic soap, I joyfully feel that with the younger generation our
profession is keeping pace with the luxury of the times.
FROM BERBER TO SUAKIM.
Toward the end of the campaign four colleagues--Messrs. Knight,
Gwynne, Scudamore, Maud--and myself, took this opportunity of
traversing a country very little known to the outside world, and a route
which no European had followed for fourteen years, from Berber to
Suakim. Moreover, there was a spice of adventure about it; there was
an uncertainty regarding an altogether peaceful time on the way--a
contingency which always appeals strongly to Englishmen of a roving
and adventurous disposition. Only quite recently raids organized by the
apparently irrepressible Osman Digna had been successfully carried out
a few miles north and south of Berber. At the moment General Hunter,
with two battalions of troops, was marching along the banks of the
River Atbara to hunt for Osman and his followers, but there was much
speculation as to whether five-and-twenty dervish raiders were still this
side of the river, and drawing their water from the wells on the Suakim
road.
I was hardly prepared for this journey--one, probably, of twelve
days--for my campaigning outfit, which I was compelled to leave on
board my nugger on the Nile, had not yet arrived in Berber.

Unfortunately, I could not wait for the gear, as the Sirdar insisted on
our departure at once, for the road would be certainly insecure directly
General Hunter returned from covering our right flank on the Atbara. I
had no clothes but what I stood up in, and I had been more or less
standing up in them without change for the last two weeks.
Our caravan of nineteen camels, with two young ones, quite babies,
following their mothers, and a couple of donkeys, about seven in the
evening of the 30th of October quitted the mud-baked town of Berber,
sleeping in the light of a new moon, and silently moved across the
desert toward the Eastern Star. Next morning at the Morabeh Well, six
miles from Berber, our camels having filled themselves up with water,
and our numerous girbas, or water skins, being charged with the
precious liquid--till they looked as if they were about to burst--our
loads were packed and we started on a journey of fifty-two miles before
the next water could be reached.
We made quite a formidable show trailing over the desert. Probably it
would have been more impressive if our two donkeys had restrained
their ambition, and kept in the rear instead of leading the van. But
animals mostly have their own way in these parts, and asses are no
exception to this rule. The two baby camels commenced "grousing"
with their elders directly we halted or made a fresh advance; they
probably had an inkling of what was in store for them. After all, the
world must seem a hard and unsympathetic place when, having only
known it for two or three weeks, you are compelled to make a journey
of 240 miles to keep up with your commissariat. One of these babies
was only in its eighteenth day. In spite of its tender youth the little
beast trotted by the side of its mother, refreshing itself whenever we