not help hoping against hope that we might have a clear mile of road
without a break. The evening had passed, and the light faded. What had
been difficult and tedious during the day, now became most serious;--
we could not see the branches of hooked thorns that overhung the broken
path; I rode in advance, my face and arms bleeding with countless
scratches, while at each rip of a thorn I gave a warning shout--
"Thorn!" for those behind, and a cry of "Hole!" for any deep rut that
lay in the path. It was fortunately moonlight, but the jungle was so
thick that the narrow track was barely perceptible; thus both camels and
donkeys ran against the trunks of trees, smashing the luggage, and
breaking all that could be broken; nevertheless, the case was urgent;
march we must, at all hazards.

My heart sank whenever we came to a deep ravine, or Hor; the warning cry
of "halt" told those in the rear that once more the camels must be
unloaded, and the same fatiguing operation must be repeated. For hours
we marched: the moon was sinking; the path, already dark, grew darker;
the animals, overloaded even for a good road, were tired out; and the
men were disheartened, thirsty, and disgusted. I dismounted from my
horse and loaded him with sacks, to relieve a camel that was perfectly
done--but on we marched. Every one was silent; the men were too tired
to speak; and through the increasing gloom we crept slowly forward
Suddenly another ravine, but not so deep; and we trusted that the camels
might cross it without the necessity of unloading; down went the leading
camel, rolling completely over with his load to the bottom. Now, the boy
Saat was the drummer; but being very tired, he had come to the
conclusion that the drum would travel quite as easily upon a camel's
back as upon his shoulders; he had accordingly slung it upon the very
camel that had now performed a somersault and solo on the drum. The
musical instrument was picked up in the shape of a flat dish, and