In The Frequent Wadys, Which Carry Off
The Surplus Rain Of The Hills, Scrub And Thorn Trees Grow In Dense
Thickets, And The Grass Is Temptingly Green.
Yet the land lies fallow:
water and fuel are scarce at a distance from the hills, and the wildest
Bedouins dare not front the danger of foraging parties, the fatal heats of
day, and the killing colds of night.
On the edges of the plain, however,
are frequent vestiges of deserted kraals.
About mid-day, we crossed a depression in the centre, where Acacias
supplied us with gum for luncheon, and sheltered flocks of antelope. I
endeavoured to shoot the white-tailed Sig, and the large dun Oryx; but the
_brouhaha_ of the Caravan prevented execution. Shortly afterwards we came
upon patches of holcus, which had grown wild, from seeds scattered by
travellers. This was the first sight of grain that gladdened my eyes since
I left Bombay: the grave of the First Murderer never knew a Triptolemus
[2], and Zayla is a barren flat of sand. My companions eagerly devoured
the pith of this African "sweet cane," despite its ill reputation for
causing fever. I followed their example, and found it almost as good as
bad sugar. The Bedouins loaded their spare asses with the bitter gourd,
called Ubbah; externally it resembles the water melon, and becomes, when
shaped, dried, and smoked, the wickerwork of the Somal, and the pottery of
more civilized people.
Towards evening, as the setting sun sank slowly behind the distant western
hills, the colour of the Prairie changed from glaring yellow to a golden
hue, mantled with a purple flush inexpressibly lovely. The animals of the
waste began to appear. Shy lynxes [3] and jackals fattened by many sheep's
tails [4], warned my companions that fierce beasts were nigh, ominous
anecdotes were whispered, and I was told that a caravan had lately lost
nine asses by lions. As night came on, the Bedouin Kafilah, being lightly
loaded, preceded us, and our tired camels lagged far behind. We were
riding in rear to prevent straggling, when suddenly my mule, the
hindermost, pricked his ears uneasily, and attempted to turn his head.
Looking backwards, I distinguished the form of a large animal following us
with quick and stealthy strides. My companions would not fire, thinking it
was a man: at last a rifle-ball, pinging through the air--the moon was too
young for correct shooting--put to flight a huge lion. The terror excited
by this sort of an adventure was comical to look upon: the valiant Beuh,
who, according to himself, had made his _preuves_ in a score of foughten
fields, threw his arms in the air, wildly shouting Libah! Libah!!--the
lion! the lion!!--and nothing else was talked of that evening.
The ghostly western hills seemed to recede as we advanced over the endless
rolling plain. Presently the ground became broken and stony, the mules
stumbled in deep holes, and the camels could scarcely crawl along.
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