desert march.

In the cool night I preferred walking to the uneasy motion of the
camel; the air was most invigorating after the intense heat of
the day and the prostration caused by the simoom. The desert had
a charm by night, as the horizon of its nakedness was limited;
the rocks assumed fantastic shapes in the bright moonlight, and
the profound stillness produced an effect of the supernatural in
that wild and mysterious solitude; the Arab belief in the genii
and afreet, and all the demon enemies of man, was a natural
consequence of a wandering life in this desert wilderness, where
nature is hostile to all living beings.

In forty-six hours and forty-five minutes' actual marching from
Korosko we reached Moorahd, "the bitter well."

This is a mournful spot, well known to the tired and thirsty
camel, the hope of reaching which has urged him fainting on his
weary way to drink one draught before he dies: this is the
camel's grave. Situated half way between Korosko and Abou Hammed,
the well of Moorahd is in an extinct crater, surrounded upon all
sides but one by precipitous cliffs about 300 feet high. The
bottom is a dead flat, and forms a valley of sand about 250 yards
wide. In this bosom of a crater, salt and bitter water is found
at a depth of only six feet from the surface. To this our tired
camels frantically rushed upon being unloaded.

The valley was a "valley of dry bones." Innumerable skeletons of
camels lay in all directions; the ships of the desert thus
stranded on their voyage. Withered heaps of parched skin and bone