Western hills a heavy cloud discharge its blessed load, and a cool
night was the result.

We loitered on Sunday, the 4th September, at Al-Hijriyah, although the
Shaykh forewarned us of a long march. But there is a kind of discipline
in these great Caravans. A gun[FN#17] sounds the order to strike the
tents, and a second bids you move off with all speed. There are short
halts, of half an hour each, at dawn, noon, the afternoon, and sunset,
for devotional purposes, and these are regulated by a cannon or a
culverin. At such times the Syrian and Persian servants, who are
admirably expert in their calling, pitch the large green tents, with
gilt crescents, for the dignitaries and their harims. The last
resting-place is known by the hurrying forward of these “Farrash,” or tent
“Lascars,” who are determined to be the first on the ground and at the
well. A discharge of three guns denotes the station, and when the
Caravan moves by night a single cannon sounds three or four halts at
irregular intervals. The principal officers were the Emir Hajj, one
Ashgar Ali Pasha, a veteran of whom my companions spoke slightingly,
because he had been the slave of a slave, probably the pipe-bearer of
some grandee who in his youth had been pipe-bearer to some other
grandee. Under him was a Wakil, or lieutenant, who managed the
executive. The Emir al-Surrah—called simply Al-Surrah, or the Purse—had
charge of the Caravan-treasure, and of remittances to the Holy Cities.
And lastly there was a commander of the

[p.72] forces (Bashat al-Askar): his host consisted of about a thousand
Irregular horsemen, Bash-Buzuks, half bandits, half soldiers, each
habited and armed after his own fashion, exceedingly dirty,
picturesque-looking, brave, and in such a country of no use whatever.