ourselves especially included.

When the Badawin disappeared, Shaykh Hamid shook his head, advising me
to give them plenty to eat, and never to allow twenty-four hours to
elapse without dipping hand in the same dish with them, in order that
the party might always be “Malihin,”—on terms of salt.[FN#7] He concluded

[p.54] with a copious lecture upon the villainy of Badawin, and on
their habit of drinking travellers’ water. I was to place the skins on a
camel in front, and not behind; to hang them with their mouths
carefully tied, and turned upwards, contrary to the general practice;
always to keep a good store of liquid, and at night to place it under
the safeguard of the tent.

In the afternoon, Omar Effendi and others dropped in to take leave.
They found me in the midst of preparations, sewing sacks, fitting up a
pipe, patching water-bags, and packing medicines. 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