We set forth with great pomp and ceremony; for the Mushir, or Commander-
in-chief, and a large cavalcade saw us out of the city, and exchanged
affectionate farewells outside the gates, evidently not expecting to see
us again. This being the first day, we made only a three hours' march;
it cleared us of Damascus and its environs, and we camped early on the
edge of the desert. I cannot convey to you the charm of a Syrian camp.
I shall never forget my first night in the desert. The horses were all
picketed about; the men were lying here and there in the silvery
moonlight, which lit up our tripod and kettle; and the jackals howled
and capered as they sniffed the savoury bones. People talk of danger
when surrounded by jackals, but I have always found them most cowardly;
they would run away if a pocket-handkerchief were shaken at them. It
was the prettiest thing to see them gambolling about in the moonlight;
but after we had turned in a strange effect was produced when a jackal,
smelling the cookery, ran up round the tent, for the shadow on the white
canvas looked as large as a figure exaggerated in a magic lantern.
During my first night under canvas I was awakened by hearing a pack
coming--a wild, unearthly sound. I thought it was a raid of the Bedawin
rushing down upon us, and that this was the war-cry; but the weird yell
swept down upon us, passed, and died away in the distance. I grew to
love the sound.

The next morning the camp began stirring at dawn. It was bitterly cold.
We boiled water and made some tea. We hurried our dressing, saw the
animals fed and watered, tents struck, things packed up, and the baggage
animals loaded and sent on ahead with orders to await us at Jayrud. We
always found it better to see our camp off ahead of us, otherwise the men
loitered and did not reach the night-halt in time. We started a little
later. The way to Jayrud was across a sandy plain, with patches of
houses here and there, and a village at long intervals. A village on