The week’s rain had made the roads in a terrible state, where dust had been there was now a foot or so of soft mud, and the ground, which had been hard and clayey, was now so sticky and slippery, that it was not easy travelling for the camels.  We passed several camps of Afghans, squatting miserably under huge tarpaulins, waiting for the roads to dry before starting their caravans, loaded with stores for some distant district.  There are one or two things that camels are quite unable to do, according to an Asiatic driver; one is to travel in wet weather.  However, Europeans manage to work camels, wet or fine; the wily Afghan says, “Camel no do this,” “Camel no do that,” because it doesn’t suit his book that camel should do so—­and a great many people think that he must know and is indispensable in the driving of camels; which seems to me to be no more sensible than to say that a chow-dog can only be managed by a Chinaman.

There is, perhaps, a small amount of risk in travelling in wet weather, for when a camel does slip he does so with a vengeance; each foot seems to take a different direction and thus, spread-eagled under a heavy load, he might suffer a severe strain or even break a bone.  Redleap fell once, but, happily, neither hurt himself nor the load.

The winter had caused a transformation in the appearance of the bush; everywhere little patches of green grass or saltbush could be seen, and wherever a teamster had stopped to bait his horses, a miniature field of oats had sprung into life.  How we hoped that the rainfall had extended towards the interior!

If only we could have started sooner, we should have benefited by the cool weather for a great part of the journey.  But though the days were warm enough, there was no doubt about the coldness of the nights.  Our blankets were white with frost in the mornings, and our canvas water-bags frozen into a solid mass.  My thermometer registered 17 degrees F. just before dawn on the coldest night.  Unhobbling the camels and loading them was freezing work, during which our fingers were quite numbed.  Shivering, we walked along until the sun was above the trees, then in a little its rays warmed to their work, and we would peal off now a coat, now a jersey or shirt, until in the middle of the day the heat was too great to be pleasant.  Poor little Val hated the cold nights, and, as I always sleep away from a fire, she used to crawl into my blankets and lie up against my back, which was quite pleasant for both of us.  Most men like to sleep alongside a roaring fire in the winter, but I have always found that after the fire burns out and the night becomes colder, the change of temperature becomes unbearable.  If the fire burned all night it would be a different matter; but to do so it must be replenished, and this entails leaving warm blankets to carry wood.  It is amusing to see two men camped by a fire which has burned low, both lying awake, and watching to see if the other will get up and attend to it.