After several days' journey along the bank of the Atbara we halted at a
spot called Collodabad, about one hundred and sixty miles from the Nile
junction. A sharp bend of the river had left a deep pool about a mile in
length, and here a number of Arabs were congregated, with their flocks
and herds.

On the evening of June 23d I was lying half asleep upon my bed by the
margin of the river, when I fancied that I heard a rumbling like distant
thunder. I had not heard such a sound for months, but a low,
uninterrupted roll appeared to increase in volume, although far distant.
Hardly had I raised my head to listen more attentively when a confusion
of voices arose from the Arabs' camp, with a sound of many feet, and in
a few minutes they rushed into my camp, shouting to my men in the
darkness, "El Bahr! El Bahr!" (the river! the river!)

We were up in an instant, and my interpreter, Mahomet, in a state of
intense confusion, explained that the river was coming down, and that
the supposed distant thunder was the roar of approaching water.

Many of the people were asleep on the clean sand on the river's bed;
these were quickly awakened by the Arabs, who rushed down the steep bank
to save the skulls of two hippopotami that were exposed to dry. Hardly
had they descended when the sound of the river in the darkness beneath
told us that the water had arrived, and the men, dripping with wet, had
just sufficient time to drag their heavy burdens up the bank.

All was darkness and confusion, everybody talking and no one listening;
but the great event had occurred; the river had arrived "like a thief in
the night". On the morning of the 24th of June, I stood on the banks of
the noble Atbara River at the break of day. The wonder of the desert!