We passed the day in the usual manner; all crowded

[p.272] together for shelter under the tent.  Even Maryam joined us, loudly informing Ali, her son, that his mother was no longer a woman but a man; whilst our party generally, cowering away from the fierce glances of the sun, were either eating or occasionally smoking, or were occupied in cooling and drinking water.  About sunset-time came a report that we were to start that night.  None could believe that such good was in store for us; before sleeping, however, we placed each camel’s pack apart, so as to be ready for loading at a moment’s notice; and we took care to watch that our Badawin did not drive their animals away to any distance.  At last, about 11 P.M., as the moon was beginning to peep over the Eastern wall of rock, was heard the glad sound of the little kettle-drum calling the Albanian troopers to mount and march.  In the shortest possible time all made ready; and, hurriedly crossing the sandy flat, we found ourselves in company with three or four Caravans, forming one large body for better defence against the dreaded Hawamid.[FN#8] By dint of much manoeuvring, arms in hand,-Shaykh Hamid and the “Demon” took the prominent parts,-we, though the last comers, managed to secure places about the middle of the line.  On such occasions all push forward recklessly, as an English mob in the strife of sight-seeing; the rear, being left unguarded, is the place of danger, and none seeks the honour of occupying it.

We travelled that night up the Fiumara in an Easterly direction, and at early dawn (July 24th) found ourselves in an ill-famed gorge called Shuab al-Hajj,[FN#9] the “Pilgrimage Pass.”  The loudest talkers became silent as we neared it, and their countenances showed apprehension written in legible characters.  Presently from the high precipitous

[p.273] cliff on our left, thin blue curls of smoke-somehow or other they caught every eye-rose in the air; and instantly afterwards rang the sharp cracks of the hillmen’s matchlocks, echoed by the rocks on the right.  My Shugduf had been broken by the camel’s falling during the night, so I called out to Mansur that we had better splice the framework with a bit of rope:  he looked up, saw me laughing, and with an ejaculation of disgust disappeared.  A number of Badawin were to be seen swarming like hornets over the crests of the hills, boys as well as men carrying huge weapons, and climbing with the agility of cats.  They took up comfortable places on the cut-throat eminence, and began firing upon us with perfect convenience to themselves.  The height of the hills and the glare of the rising sun prevented my seeing objects very distinctly, but my companions pointed out to me places where the rock had been scarped, and where a kind of rough stone breastwork-the Sangah of Afghanistan-had been piled up as a defence, and a rest for the long barrel of the matchlock.  It was useless to challenge the Badawin to come down and fight us like men upon