My Fellow-Traveller Had Brought Me Some Pencils[FN#8] And A Penknife, As “Forget-Me-Nots,” For We Were By No Means Sure Of Meeting Again.

He hinted, however, at another escape from the paternal abode, and proposed, if possible, to join the Dromedary-Caravan.

Shaykh Hamid said the same, but I saw, by the expression of his face, that his mother and wife would not give him leave from home so soon after his return.

Towards evening-time the Barr al-Manakhah became a scene of exceeding confusion. The town of tents lay upon the ground. Camels were being laden, and were roaring under the weight of litters and cots, boxes and baggage. Horses and mules galloped about. Men were rushing wildly in all directions on worldly errands, or hurrying to pay a farewell visit to the Prophet’s Tomb. Women and children sat screaming on the ground, or ran to and fro distracted, or called their vehicles to escape the danger of being crushed. Every now and then a random shot excited all into the belief that the departure-gun had sounded. At times we heard a volley from the robbers’ hills, which elicited a general groan, for the pilgrims were still, to use their own phrase, “between fear

[p.55] and hope,” and, consequently, still far from “one of the two comforts.[FN#9]” Then would sound the loud “Jhin-Jhin” of the camels’ bells, as the stately animals paced away with some grandee’s gilt and emblazoned litter, the sharp plaint of the dromedary, and the loud neighing of excited steeds.

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