CHAPTER V.

Passing out over the fallen western wall of Gerasa we are immediately in the ancient cemetery, which extends for a mile, or nearly so, from the city.  Many stone sarcophagi, some of which are artistically carved, lie scattered about in almost every conceivable position—­some even lying across the tops of others.  But these windowless rock-palaces are all empty.

Leaving Gerasa, my way leads in a general direction westward over the mountains of Gilead.  The reader must remember that in all this region there is not a road over which a carriage can be driven, save that quite recently a few trips have been made from Mezarib to Gerasa.  What are called roads are simply bridle-paths, and, in many cases, the paths are so indistinct that the guide is more likely to take you forward with reference to a general direction than to attempt to lead you by a recognized trail.

The Mountains of Gilead present a rugged appearance, but, in the main, are clothed with vegetation; hence they are beautiful in their majesty.  The olive and the prickly oak are abundant.  The villages are not numerous, and are situated far up the slopes, or even on the tops of the ridges.  These villages are clusters of squalid huts constructed of stone and mud, and can afford no accommodation such as an American might desire.  But, in many instances, they occupy sites identified with places and events noted in Bible story.

These mountains were given to Gad in the allotment of Joshua and Eleazar.  Surely at that time the prospect must have been much more pleasing than at present, or the Gadites would not have been so anxious to receive this district as a permanent possession.  True, even now, a few narrow valleys, or wadies, show signs of great fertility, but the greater part is quite uninviting.  Yet to the tourist there is much of interest in this region.

My way to the Jordan lay over these mountains, especially that part known as the Jebel Ajlun.  Sometimes it seemed impossible to proceed because of rocks and underbrush.  The mountain sides were so steep in some places that we were barely able to climb them; many of the wadies, washed by winter torrents, were next to being impassable; and when our way led along the sides of precipitous slopes I shuddered to think of the consequences of a misstep upon the part of my horse.  The course I had chosen through this East-Jordan country was an unusual one (as already noted)—­one over which my dragoman had never gone, and one over which, he said, not one in a thousand tourists to Palestine ever asked to go,—­a statement corroborated by the United States Consul at Jerusalem, who has written extensively on the trans-Jordanic highlands.  This statement was not very encouraging to me, but I had set my heart on reaching the Jordan by this route, so simply said, “Lead on.”  Several times I feared I had made a serious mistake, but having come thus far I could not go back.