Chapter 14

HARASSED BY OUR GUIDES

We never could ascertain whether the Tamimi had come or not, so on February 18, having given up all hope of joining them and changed ten camels, we set out, but not before nine o'clock.

After Sa'ah the Wadi Adim becomes narrow, stony, and uninteresting, and our way lay for a good part along a stony river bed, gradually mounting, but almost imperceptibly. For several days we pursued the course of this valley, and had we known what would befall us as we approached the head of the Wadi Adim, I think nothing would have induced us to take this route. It appears that a very wicked branch of the Hamoumi tribe hold a portion of this valley, and determined that their enemies, the Jabberi, who stole their cattle and plundered their caravans, should not have the exclusive patronage of the lucrative English travellers on their way to the coast. To our surprise at twelve o'clock we stopped at a well, Bir al Ghuz, when our men began to unload the camels. They said they were only just waiting for the Hamoumi siyara to come up, and that they had already arrived at Sa'ah.

The Hamoumi are a small, poor tribe of Bedouin, who occupy the lower end of Wadi Adim. They hire out camels to caravans, and do a great deal of the carrying business. Their villages consist of miserable little hovels gathered round forts, placed at intervals down the valleys, so that they can see from one to another. They have many flocks and herds, for there is actually pasturage for them, and many of the shepherds live in caves, there being plenty in the sides of the valley, which are composed of pudding-stone; they wall up the front.

We considered that, as Talib-bin-Abdullah, the chief of the Jabberi and so notorious a robber, was our Mokadam, we had better keep friends with him, therefore we spoke him fair. He and his companions came and wrote their names after a list of stages, and made a most solemn oath they would do anything we liked; and after we had sat for an hour or more in the sun, waiting for the Hamoumi, they said we must pass the night at Bir al Ghuz, still swearing to the seven days.

We therefore encamped, and very soon the Jabberi came and asked my husband for a sheep, but he said he would not give one now, but later in the journey he would do so if he found we were getting on well; so they went away, but soon came back for twenty-seven dollars, as _siyar_ to the Hamoumi. My husband said he had agreed for twenty-five, but they said they had spent two dollars on a messenger to fetch the Hamoumi. The Jabberi were by way of having 110 dollars for their _siyar_, forty first and the rest at Sheher. They would not move next morning (the 20th) without the whole of the money, so they had to be given that and the twenty-seven dollars for the Hamoumi. Besides this they always demanded their camel-hire every evening.

They next said the way was very dangerous, and we must take men from five other tribes (though we could not imagine how so many could be accommodated in that wilderness), and pay twenty dollars. As my husband refused, and asked them to reflect upon the consequences of their conduct, the soldiers came and now said they recommended him to pay and recover the money at Sheher; otherwise they, the soldiers, said they would give up their weapons to the Jabberi as a pledge that they would pay forty dollars at Sheher. We said they might, but Talib told us that if we did not pay they would give the Hamoumi their money and all go back themselves. We then summoned Imam Sharif and had another council of three.

The servants, meanwhile, used often to be leaning in at the tent door, scanning our faces and begging us to do anything the Jabberi wanted, and moaning that we should never see the ocean any more.

The Jabberi had gone away, as my husband said he must think over this; so we consulted together. We at first quite decided to return to Al Koton, and try to reach the coast by Wadi al Ain and, if we could not have the camels, to load our own three animals with necessaries and money, leaving all else behind, and perhaps to slip by Siwoun in the night. So Talib was recalled, and told that we would go back; that we were now convinced of the dangers of this road, as we saw he was afraid himself, and as he had told us of two places where murders were always committed. But afterwards we thought it wiser to consent to pay the extra thirty dollars (in all fifty-seven) as _siyar_ to the Hamoumi, all the tribes mentioned being varieties of Hamoumi. The money was to be placed on the Koran and taken thence by Talib, with an oath that, if the sultan of Sheher thought it unnecessary, it should be refunded. Seid-bin-Iselem and three soldiers witnessed this, but Talib would not allow the Hamoumi to be present. Instead of taking Talib's gun as a deposit, the soldiers were to keep the money in their hands. We were still to be at Sheher within the seven days, and not now to wait two or three days for the five tribes.

Though we did unpack a Koran and make Talib-bin-Abdullah swear on it, we did not then understand that merely swearing on the binding is nothing. The Koran must be opened, and some places are better than others. Oaths by the life of a son, or to divorce a favourite wife, are really good. We being, as I say, ignorant, the oaths were broken.

My husband and I now felt quite conquered; and it must be admitted we had reason.

We had a horrible evening of dust-storms and hurricanes, and were dreadfully afraid of the tent being blown down. In the morning we packed, and the baggage was taken out to be tied in bundles, when Talib demanded the eleven dollars camel-hire for the day before. In vain was he told that all was packed, and he should have them at the next stage. No! he would not go away without his money; so at great inconvenience we had to pay on the nail.

We had not gone an hour before we stopped, unloaded, and changed our camels for Hamoumi camels. 'Now all is peace,' said Talib-bin-Abdullah, and in the same breath asked for two dollars for two extra camels, that we had had before we reached Sa'ah. My husband refused, but when we reached our stage Talib asked for that day's pay, and would not take it without the two dollars. Of course my husband refused again, saying we were not responsible for those two camels; that Talib had contracted to take us and our baggage, and that now we had twenty-two camels instead of the fifteen with which we arrived at Al Koton. Equally, of course, he knew he must pay, and did.

We settled ourselves under some thorny trees at Bir bin Aboudan, where there are two wells with good water. It is larger than most Hamoumi villages, and has palm-trees and many large b'dom-trees.

Besides the Hamoumi, Jabberi, and Yafei, there are many small subsidiary tribes, or rather families, forming little independent communities of their own, in this region.

To continue the life of Talib-bin-Abdullah. As soon as he had received the last-mentioned money, he and his companions and the Hamoumi had a great and loud quarrel. Our money, being so bulky, was in bags scattered about among all the baggage, but we always had one store-bag in my box, and my husband had some for current expenses. The camel-men thought all the money was in a certain bag that was solemnly carried into the tent every night. While they shouted we filled the bag with a certain amount of dollars, meant to represent our entire fortune, and placed it on the table. We had become great hypocrites, but now we both decided that sweet words were of no avail. Whenever Imam Sharif was sent for, the servants crowded round, scanning our faces, and in despair themselves, saying 'our lives are sacrificed,' and making great lamentations about their wives and families.

It was very hard sometimes to keep our voices and countenances cheerful while holding counsel with Imam Sharif as to how we ought to act, for sometimes it is right to haggle over fourpence and sometimes it is right to pay through the nose. It is difficult, indeed, when you are cudgelling your brains, not to knit your brows, even if you only wish to decide if you will take your umbrella or not.

Talib had not been absent from us an hour when he again arrived, saying he wanted four dollars to pay a debt he owed in Bir bin Aboudan; 'it was to come out of the thirty dollars still owing for the _siyara_, and to be paid at Sheher,' he said. He was, of course, told that the money for the _siyara_ had been fully paid up, seventy dollars before the sultan of Shibahm, and forty at Sa'ah. Talib bawled a good deal, and my husband pointed to the money-bag and said, 'If you want all my money, take it; but call it by no other name than robbery. Take all at once instead of bothering me perpetually, and I will settle with you at Sheher.'

When they heard this they were frightened, and went away, saying 'Oh! No! No! We do not want that.' They were soon back, and said they wanted four dollars on their food money (four annas a day), 'but not at all unless we wished.' They then acknowledged, before the soldiers, that the _siyar_ was fully paid up, and that Talib had made a mistake about those two dollars that he had obtained for the camels. In the meantime we had been planning to get our most urgently needed things ready to load on the horses and to walk to Sheher, only sixty-five miles--but such miles! However, we knew our enemies had the advantage of knowing the way and the water-places, which we did not, and could climb like monkeys over places where we could not take horses.

I am sure we should never have found the way over such mountains, where camels sat down and slid, and we did much the same, sometimes quite involuntarily.

Saleh at this time seemed disposed to do his duty. The money (thirty dollars) that had been extorted the day before for _siyar_ to the Hamoumi, who had not yet turned up, and given to the soldiers, was by them put into Saleh's keeping, as he had a box that could be locked. In the night Talib came to Saleh and said: 'Six Hamoumi are here; give me the money for them.' 'Wait till morning,' said Saleh, 'and I will give it you before Mr. Bent, Imam Sharif, and everybody,' but when he offered it to him then, he said, 'No, keep it.'

We had gone a little ahead next morning, February 21, Talib, Imam Sharif, and I, with the needful escort, my husband having to ride a camel as his horse's back was sore, and had proceeded an hour on our road when--'Bang!' went a gun high up in the rocks, to our left, near the village of Kouna or Koutna, and 'bang!' went another; so we stopped, and with some hesitation five of the soldiers and some of the Jabberi went forward, getting round behind the shelter of some trees. There were seven men up in the rocks, and a tower in the village was crowded. They constantly fired from both places. The camels soon came up, and we all dismounted and stood together with our animals, Basha, Zubda, and Mahsoud close by. This shooting and parleying went on for half an hour. We thought at first that they would only fire over our heads, but a bullet struck the ground very near us.

We could not make out what it was all about. There were so many different suggestions made as to the cause; some said the people of the village wanted to come with us as _siyara_, and some that they wanted to fight the Hamoumi, who had lately taken their camels.

Our men shouted, '_Siyara! Siyara!_' and the men on the tower, 'Come no nearer!' 'By my God you shall not come on!' 'We are fighting and we will slay him who dares to stir a step!'

Talib said, 'Now we can go neither backward nor forward,' and amazed us by asking for no money.

At last the soldiers came back from the village and told us to advance, so we mounted and rode through the village amidst uncomplimentary remarks from the scowling inhabitants. We were told some people had gone on to intercept us, and accordingly about half a mile farther there were more shots, this time to our right. We of course came to a standstill, but Talib, in spite of the shooting, rushed at Mahsoud's bridle and dragged Imam Sharif down into the river bed, calling excitedly to the rest of us to hurry on. We passed safely, and you may be sure looked in every rock and bush for enemies.

Hardly a quarter of a mile on, and where the valley is about three hundred yards wide, there was a small tower to our left, and we saw a lot of men rushing into this and appearing on the battlements. We knew they would shoot at us and I was watching for the puff. The first shot threw up the earth nearly two yards from my horse's nose, and the next seemed to say 'tshish!' just at the back of my neck. It went just between my husband and Imam Sharif, who were on foot behind me.

Everyone ran as fast as the rocky ground let them, to some trees out of sight of that tower, but not knowing whether we were not going to meet with more shooters, we always had our revolvers ready, though no one knew that; our safety lay in being unarmed in the enemies' eyes; we kept them for worse need.

The sheikh of Kouna said his name was Abdullah-bal-Jabbeli, of the tribe of Obathani. There are two other small tribes, Zedin--Sheikh Ebenadon, and Shibim--Sheikh Bengadem.

After that last firing there was no more that day, and we slept peacefully at Naïda, which we reached about 12.30, and where the inhabitants were quite friendly, bringing us all the food we asked to buy. The valley seemed to come quite to an end, but took a sudden turn eastward just before we reached the village. It is rather a pretty place, but the spot on which we were encamped was dreadfully dirty, and we were so afflicted by dust-storms, that our books were covered while we read, and the colour of our clothes and bedding obliterated, and we had to tie our hair up in handkerchiefs to keep it clean.

We always had quilts of turkey-red or some other cotton, for when we lay down our beds often became sandy, and the quilts could easily be shaken or brushed, and besides protected the blankets from burrs and grass-thorns. We were by ourselves in the afternoon when Talib came quite alone, and with an air of secrecy, to ask for his eleven dollars for that day's camel hire. I rushed out to the kitchen and brought Matthaios as a witness. Then Talib asked for two dollars, and when my husband began to call Saleh, he said he did not want them and went away. He was soon back again, however, with Saleh, to ask if my husband wished to pay any more for _siyara_ of the people we were coming to. My husband said 'No,' and after some talk Talib said he would not ask it if my husband did not wish. I told Talib that the very next thing he would get would be my husband's money-bag, so he retired. Later he came for thirty dollars to send to some people that night, but my husband told him to send his own men for them, and not afterwards to say he had paid a messenger; the money would only be paid into those people's own hands. We lay down with no great certainty of peace for the morrow, when we expected to reach Ghaida.

All, however, went quietly that day, much to our relief. My husband had been induced to pay a rupee to send a scout up the mountain to look behind rocks and bushes for dangers, but we passed on our way completely unmolested by the shepherdesses, young and old, who were all we met with in the shape of human beings.

The valley became narrower, we rose higher, and the cliffs were cavernous. Sometimes the valley seemed quite to finish up, but then it always took a turn again. Much of the way was over large, round stones, most horrible for the horses.

We passed a water-place two hours after we left Naïda, though Talib had made us stop there because, he said, there was no water within a day's journey, and we found ourselves stopped at Rahba, two hours at least before Ghaida, where we expected to be, Talib still sticking to it that we should be at Sheher in three more days. He only asked for four annas for coffee to drink at the great tomb of a wali, Sheikh Salem-bin-Abdullah Mollah el Mohagher, who is buried near a mosque and a tank, the footbath of cattle, from which we drank pea-green water, boiled and filtered of course. Altogether Rahba is a pretty village, but much exposed to wind. The tribes thereabout are Mahri, Gohi, and Salbani.

February the 23rd was a weary day. Talib had asked leave to go to Sufeila to arrange something with the sheikh, soon after our arrival at Rahba, saying he would not be away long. He did not go all day, but at night said he was now going, and would take sixty rupees _siyar_ then, but was told we would take it ourselves. In the morning the Hamoumi refused to load up, saying they had not been paid the twenty-seven dollars. Talib was absent, but being fetched said he was keeping the money, as otherwise the Hamoumi might leave us anywhere they liked. In the meantime the soldiers, according to their habit, instead of keeping their weapons for our safeguard, once more gave up their swords and guns to the Hamoumi. They always were pledging them to our enemies, as an earnest that we would do what they wanted.

The Hamoumi loaded the camels, on the oath of Talib that they should have the money that night at Sufeila, a place that we were to pass, and which the day before we were told it was impossible to reach in one stage. They swore to take us to Bir Baokban. We started about ten o'clock, and at eleven the camels were stopped at Sufeila, and the men said they would wait a quarter of an hour, to which my husband consented. They then began to lead the camels away to feed, so my husband stoutly said that if they did that he would get other camels. Neither he nor any of us knew how or whence these other camels could be procured, but it had the desired effect, and they left the camels sitting among their loads. Saleh was sent to arrange with the wretched little sheikh, and remained away till after two o'clock. A soldier was sent to fetch him, and then arose a tremendous uproar. First they said we should stay where we were, then that we should go only a short distance, and on a different way to that already settled. After that we were told we could not go to Al Figra or Al Madi, as these were recognised places for murders, and we were told the same of Ghail Babwazir; also a good many different numbers of days were mentioned for our journey.

My husband said he would camp at Sufeila, but they quickly loaded up for Bir Baokban, they said. The sheikh was given fifteen dollars, and he told us he would send four of his sons with us.

I must say that after those four or five hours of being stared at and called bad names, I was pretty tired. We none of us remarked that three of the soldiers, all the Jabberi, and the four sons stayed behind.

I was riding with Imam Sharif, two Indians, four soldiers, and the groom leading Zubda, whose back was still sore, when we came to a fork in the way. The soldiers asked a passing man, 'Which is the way to Ghail?' The man looked puzzled; so were we. I said, 'We want to know the way to Bir Baokban.' 'No, no! Ghail,' said the soldiers, and when I said 'Baokban!' again they laughed scornfully. Our _kafila_ came up, and I rode to my husband and told him I was sure we were being led out of our way.

We were guided down a rocky slope into a valley not more than 200 feet wide, with thick woods up each side, and a sandy bottom. Here we were stopped by a good many shots from each side, and retreated a little, without turning our backs, and then looked about for the four sons. There was another row of course, and my husband said we would return to Sufeila; but we were told at last that we might pass, so we did, and one of the shooters soon joined us and asked for a rupee for coffee, but was refused, and then said he would let us go to Bir Baokban if he got a rupee, but he did not insist. We now thought it well to ask where we were, and were told that it was Hadbeh, a place we had never heard of before. My husband said we should return to Sufeila, and carried off a string of camels. There was a great consultation, amid much roaring and shouting. I rode fast to the head of the _kafila_ to see what was happening, my husband still going back with about six camels, the others going on, they said, to Bir Baokban. I then galloped back over the stones to the soldiers who were behind, and said, 'Your sultan has placed you under our orders; go and get those camels back.' 'No, no,' they said, 'it is quite safe to go on,' and ran back as hard as they could.

I then rode back quickly to my husband, and found him in abject distress; one of his camels had shed its load, and was seated on the ground. The soldiers remained behind, sitting on a bank. After a long council, we determined to go on to a village close by, where we joined the other camels. We had barely time to set up the tents before dark, and our store of bread and charcoal stood us in good stead. The Indian party were dreadfully late getting to bed. Dismay reigned supreme amongst us all.

Saleh came in to our tent and said, 'The man who shot at us says, "You cannot go on to-morrow. To-day we only shot our bullets in the air, but to-morrow we shall shoot at you."'

We thought of going back to Sufeila, and sending to the sultan of Sheher for help, but where could we find a messenger? When we were in bed, Saleh came and said two men with the matches of their guns alight were standing by our tent; some of those that had shot at us, and said they wanted four or six annas, as they were returning to Sufeila. They refused to take four then, so my husband said they had better come about it in the morning.

Morning revealed that these were some of our own camel-men, who were just pretending to be the shooters in order to get money, and also we found out that Talib had employed the shooters to give us the fright, in order to delay us, that the Jabberi and the soldiers might have a feast at our expense in the village, and time to eat it. They did not reach camp till eleven.

Next morning the soldiers brought my husband twelve of the fifteen dollars the sheikh had received (being part of the original thirty, said to be for the three other tribes of Hamoumi), saying that he was a very wicked man, as he had not sent his four sons, so they had only left him three dollars for the feast. Hardly had my husband put this by, when Talib came and had to be given thirty-six dollars for _siyar_ to the Mahri. Plainly we were in their hands, and had to pay whatever Talib chose, as we might be hemmed in at any moment. We felt as if we were in a net.

The eleven dollars camel-hire which we had kept out having gone to make up this sum, and the camel-men refusing to load without it, we had to unpack again to get it for them.

Sufeila, where we had endured such a disagreeable delay, is on the tableland, 3,150 feet above the sea-level, with excellent air, excellent water, palm and other trees, and would make a first-class sanatorium for Aden. It is ten miles inland from Sheher as the crow flies.

About 8 o'clock next morning we started, not knowing precisely whence or whither, and determined to keep together as much as possible. We followed for miles the bed of a stream, which collects all the water from this part of the akaba, and gradually develops into Wadi Adim, the great approach to the Hadhramout. There is a fortress on a hill 3,500 feet above the sea-level, the highest point in this part; Haibel Gabrein being 4,150 feet, and near Dizba the highest point is 4,900 feet. After some miles on the akaba, we plunged into a valley about 200 feet wide, and wooded with palms; the earthen cliffs were about 60 feet high, and the bed sandy.

By this time we neither had a liking for valleys, cliffs, trees, nor people. We did not feel pleased at being led straight across the valley to a band of armed men, in a most unpleasant situation for us if they meant mischief. These were only Jabberi travelling, and they were told that we were friends of the sultan of Sheher, and not going to stay a minute. I suppose they would have fired if we had not been introduced to them. We were glad to reach Bir Baokban at 11.30. It is a well in a bare place at the mouth of a valley. Talib did not wish to stay there, for the water is brackish, and he wanted us to go on before the camel-men came up, but we waited, and they and the Jabberi had a loud and angry quarrel, and we were told there was no water nearer than Al Madi, and some of them wanted to stop at a place half-way to Al Madi and send for water. We could make neither head nor tail of it. Talib then asked my husband which he wished to do, for so it should be; but as he knew it was a case of 'You may do as you like, but you must,' answered to that effect, 'Whichever Talib liked, we were in his hands and could not choose.' After great hesitation we encamped in a windy, dusty, but rather pleasant place near Bir Baokban.

There were many tombs on the way. One had three upright stones, which the Hamoumi camel-men touched, and then kissed their fingers.

They cheerfully told us that many caravans have been robbed here, and men murdered; pleasant news for us.

We asked them why we had been fired on, and they said that the people believed we poisoned the wells. The soldiers came and shouted at us a good deal, saying, 'Why do you hire Bedouin to protect you? Are we not here? Do you not trust us?' We soothed them with flattering words, and then Talib came and extorted nine more dollars.

In the morning we had to pay three dollars to three men who said they had seen four men, which four men ran away. We were informed that we were to pass through three tribes that day, and should have a good deal of trouble on the way to Dizba, the place half way to Al Madi. As a matter of fact we were pretty sure that these later scares were only got up to frighten more money out of our pockets. The soldiers were told to go in front, but they often sat down and lit a fire for their water pipe, got behind, or rode a camel.

Though we went up and down a good deal, it was not too steep to ride all the way, and though there were watchings and scoutings, we saw neither man nor beast, nor any habitation of the three tribes. As we went along my husband was told that an old woman (whom we never saw) had come and said that the men of Al Madi would not let us pass, and that we must write to the sultan of Sheher to send us two hundred soldiers.

There is water at Dizba, though we were told there was none till Al Madi. We encamped in a sheltered spot, a sort of pot between low hills. We ought, according to the solemn contract, to have been at Sheher by that time. We talked over the plan of sending to Sheher, and decided that doing so meant much pay to the messenger, thirty or forty more dollars _siyar_, and, what was worst, four days' delay; it would also cost forty-four dollars in camel-hire; so we decided that it was far better to push on, for our delay would only give time to more enemies to gather round us. It would likewise be far cheaper, and so it subsequently turned out.

From being hypocrites we now became liars, and my husband said he had not so much money left, and that he had already paid four rupees to send men on the morrow. There was some talk of our all going by night and getting past Al Madi, but in that case our own men would only fire on us to frighten us. Next we heard that there was no village at Al Madi where we could buy forage; we had but little left, though plenty of dried bread. Then three Jabberi came and said they were getting lame, and wanted eight dollars to buy a donkey out of their food-money, but my husband said he had paid so much for _siyara_ that he had not enough to pay that till we reached Sheher.

There was an idea that they would shoot round us in the night, for they spoke of the dangerous situation in which we were, and wanted six or eight dollars to pay for scouts on the hills, but went away when my husband said he would see about it in the morning. In case they did we determined to remain silent in our beds that they might be unable to locate us, and in that case they would not fire at our tents for fear of hitting us.

We had a very cold night; the dew in the morning was streaming off our tent in heavy drops.

Talib said, 'The people of Al Madi do not want money, but our lives and souls.' We did not think they meant to kill us, but only to frighten money out of us. We also overheard some conversation about our lives and baggage being in peril. We had not far to go, but the way was very intricate.

At sunset we three had a great council, and sent for Saleh; the soldiers, having been flattered, were fetched too, as we now thought we had them on our side, and we threatened to ruin them and their families, or to give them good bakshish if they did well by us. My husband said we had decided that in future he would not give another pi (not to eat, but there are a good many pies in an anna and also pice), but that, as the camel-men spoke of stopping between Dizba and Al Madi, we would have some food ready to eat on the journey and get the soldiers to force them on; and, if we had to stay, to load the horses and start the following morning to Sheher. The soldiers agreed on promise of a good sheep next day; the Hamoumi camel-men were promised coffee and sugar, so they agreed also.

When they were all gone, Saleh, to our unbounded amazement, said that Seid and Talib had confided to him 114 rupees, on account of his having the locked box; so he brought them to us, and amid shouts of laughter they were engulfed in our bag.

By the bye, we actually had two of the Al Madi people with us, so we ought to have been safe; or what is the good of _siyara_?

In the morning an awful object met our view. This was a soldier, a very ugly black man, who was dragged along on his knees by his arms and shoulders to our tent. He had been struck by the cold, his companions said. He seemed to be perfectly helpless, and to have no control or use of any muscles save those which were at work making the most horrible grimaces. I ran to the kitchen and fetched our tea, to the rage of Matthaios, who said he had no more water to replace it, and that as it was we could not have a cupful each. It was poured down his throat in a very rough way, but refused to stay. My husband gave him some of an unknown medicine, that he said was specially used for such cases, and this brandy just trickled out of his mouth, so they dragged him away to their own fire, still in a kneeling position. They then opened his jacket and burnt him a good deal with a hot sword, and he was given tepid water to drink, which stayed down very well. When we were about to start, he was held upright by two men. A thick square shawl was put rather carelessly over his head with the fringe over his face, and pushed back off his shoulders, to allow his arms to come out through an _abba_, a kind of cloak with armholes, which was also put over his head. They came out so high up of course, that the hands stuck out on a level with his ears. High up under his elbows, and far above his waist, a turban was wound, and a muffler was put round his neck and mouth; he hobbled along with two supporters and leaning on a spear, with the shawl streaming on the ground like a train--a very absurd sight. In about an hour he was quite well.

Talib, not knowing of our little plan of going with the Hamoumi to Al Madi, came and told us how very dangerous Al Madi was, and that it would be far better to go by Ghail Babwazir, if only the camel-drivers would agree. If they would not, he would put all our most necessary things, _i.e._ our money, on his own camel, and we would ride secretly off together. It is needless to say we did not consent, as it would have been 'Good-bye Talib and money!'

Then Ali, the chief of the camel-men, came and said he would not go unless he got six secret dollars for himself and six for the others, and said he would (like Ananias and Sapphira) swear he had only six. Imam Sharif and Saleh again perjured themselves in our behalf to such an extent that my husband and I could hardly sit by, but we must speak the language of the country, I suppose.

From Dizba we passed over very high ground, 4,300 feet, with a cold refreshing wind from the sea. It seemed to us a healthy climate. In a little narrow pass is a rude tomb near the rough stone cabin of a sainted lady called Sheikha, where our soldiers and camel-men made their devotions.

I had a very uncomfortable ride, for on the way we saw an aloe of a kind we had not seen before, and which proved to be new enough to obtain the name of _Aloe Luntii_. The botanist sawed off the head of it (which is growing now in Kew Gardens), and we knew he dared not try to take it on his camel, as the men always quarrelled over every weight that was added to the load; so I told him to go on and leave it, as if he did not care for it, and then I tied it to the off-side of my saddle, and had to ride hanging heavily on my left stirrup, as otherwise I should have been over-balanced, and my horse would have got a sore back. On arrival, I dismounted in a quiet place, put the aloe down with my jacket thrown on it, and later fetched it into the tent, under cover of my feminine draperies, and at night it was smuggled into some package. On one occasion, when no one had been riding for some days past, a felt saddle-cloth somehow was left behind by us, so one of our own men was forced to carry it in his hand till I discovered it, and tied it to my saddle, for he was not allowed to put it on a camel. I tell this to show how very disobliging they were to us.

Mariala is the name of a disgusting pool or cistern of the very dirtiest water, on a bare and lonely hillside, where we were exposed to wind and cold, and where we encamped in much the same state of perplexity as usual.

Soon after our arrival my husband was asked for eight dollars to send fifteen men up the hills to look for murderers; he refused, then the camel-men said they would not start without six men to go ahead, but that was refused too.

Next morning we started for Al Madi. We wound up and down, over bare ground, and could see no danger for miles. At a point on the highland we waited for the camels to come up; they came and passed to the southward on a well-trodden path. Talib called out to them to stop, and said that he would not go that way, and that we should not, and that the men were taking us into danger. He pointed to the south-west, but we did not like parting from our baggage. Talib then asked my husband which way he pleased to go.

'Which is the best?' he asked.

'I do not know,' said Talib.

'Very well,' said my husband, 'we will follow the camels.' On we all went in great doubt, and the Jabberi told us awful stories of the Hamoumi intentions. We had five armed Jabberi, seven soldiers, and twelve Hamoumi, all armed, including two little boys.

The soldiers, so brave the night before, said: 'We can do nothing--we are afraid. If we fired a gun, or if they fired, hundreds of people would come, and they would kill us.'

They never either raised their weapons or their tongues in our defence. They said the sultan of Sheher would not be able to go himself or send soldiers into these parts, and that the Al Madi people wished to decoy us to Al Madi and kill us. The Jabberi said the same, and Talib again wished us to ride off with him.

The Hamoumi said it was all Talib's fault, for he owed a great deal of money at Al Madi, and was afraid of going thither.

The Hamoumi then said they would take us to Ghail Barbwazir or Barbazir or Babwazir, but we must keep it a secret from the Jabberi and the soldiers.

Saleh said to them, 'My dear friends, tell me the truth. Where are we going? I also am an Arab and a Moslem, and I swear by my Koran and my religion, that we will give you forty dollars, and spend two days in Ghail Babwazir, during which you will have your eleven dollars a day; and we will engage you on to Sheher, and give you good bakshish, and a good character to the sultan and two nice turbans.'

We gasped in amazement at this.

'Oh!' said Saleh, 'I only read them something from the preface of the Koran! We are not bound at all. If I had to swear falsely on the Koran, I should have to be given a great many guineas!

We never knew the name of the place where we slept that night.

Talib came in the morning and said he could not persuade the Bedou Hamoumi to go to Ghail Babwazir. We told him that they had agreed to do so, and he was very angry at our having settled anything without him. Then Ali said he could not go in two days; so he was led aside and privily threatened with public betrayal as to having taken twelve dollars and saying he only had six. Then they all wanted payment in advance, but the same threat to Ali availed to avert this bother and we set out, told that we should go as far as Gambla.

We had, after, all, to part from the camels, which went a more roundabout way, while we climbed down 1,000 feet over very steep rocks, with the use of hands as well as feet, the horses being with us, to a place not very far from water. The horses were sent to fetch a little, while we awaited the camels more than half an hour, and ate some food we had with us.

The horses had been badly off and had only bread and dates, for the camel-men would sell us no forage. When they arrived they said we must stay where we were, and there was a fierce row as usual. They also demanded their eleven dollars, but gave up sooner than unload, as we said we would not stop.

At one time, when we had been waiting a long while for the return of those camels which had gone to fetch skins of water, Talib caused our horses to be saddled, mounted his camel, and started, but my husband would not go on to Gambla, when the camel-men had refused to go there. Then we all lay down on rough stones, scorching in the sun for hours, wondering what would happen and whether we could get any farther that day, but at length we suddenly were invited to start.

We had a very steep climb up on foot and then down, and pitched our tents for the night in a very bare little hollow. We were very sorry for the horses; it was sad to see them turning over the stones, and we longed for some real horse food for them.

The soldiers sent a letter to Sheher to announce our arrival, and they wished to send for more soldiers, but we begged them not to do so, as they were quite useless.

Seid-bin-Iselem in this lonely spot came to Saleh and wanted some money to buy something, where there was no one to sell. Saleh said the money was still in his box, and to make his words good smuggled it in again, in a most clumsy but quite successful way.

Ali's secret had twice to be threatened, next morning, for different reasons before we could start, and then they all roared that they would none of them carry our chairs. We all travelled on foot still, as there was much climbing to do. We climbed down 2,000 feet, very steep in parts, to Gambla.

Gambla is a verdant and palmy place where we could buy so much food for our hungry horses that at length my Basha turned his back on his big pile, and came with long green streamers hanging from his sated mouth to doze beside me.

There was a struggle, of course, to stay the night at Gambla, and we were told we could not reach Ghail Babwazir till very late, but we said we did not care how late, and Ali was once more privately drawn aside, and again threatened about the twelve dollars, so it was agreed we should go on.

We waited, however, a long time, and seeing no camels collected to load I said very loud, 'Call all the Hamoumi together here, and tell Ali that the very last moment has come.'

Ali rushed about, and soon had us on our way.