exaggerated by the guides to three, we suddenly sighted the
inland fort. Its approach is that of a large encamping-ground,
and such, indeed, it is; the Egyptian pilgrim-caravan here halts
on the fourth day from El-Muwaylah. The broken, untidy environs,
strewed with bones and rubbish, show low mounds that mean ovens;
stone rings, where tents are pitched; and the usual graves,
amongst which a reverend man, Shaykh Salih, rests in a manner of
round tower. The site is, in one point at least, admirably
well-chosen, a kind of carrefour where four valleys and as many
roads meet; and thus it commands the mouths of all the gorges
leading inland.

Riding up to the fort, we were welcomed by its commandant,
Lieutenant Nasir Ahmed, a peculiarly good specimen of his arm,
the infantry. His garrison consists of thirteen regulars, whose
clean uniforms show discipline, and whose hale and hearty
complexions testify to the excellence of the water and the air.
The men are paid annually by the treasurer of the Hajj-caravan.
They are supposed to be relieved after seven years; but they have
wives and families; and, like the British soldier in India half a
century ago, they are content to pass their working lives in
local service. The commandant showed us over his castle, which
was in excellent order; and brewed coffee, which we drank in the
cool porch of the single gate. He then led us about the
neighbourhood, and ended with inviting the Sayyid, Furayj, and
the Wakil Mohammed Shahadah to a copious feast.

The fort is the usual square, straight-curtained work of solid
masonry, with a circular bastion at each angle, and a huge arched
main-entrance in the western facade. It is, in fact, one of the