Later in the afternoon we made a start. The road was dreary and desolate, continually ascending and descending, and strewn with black stones and rocks that rendered our progress very slow. Almost the only level piece we crossed was a great circle of rocky ground enclosed on all sides by hills, the whole bearing the appearance of having been the crater of a volcano; and as all the surrounding mountains show signs of volcanic action, this hypothesis is not at all improbable. Late at night we reached the village of El-Melh, where were a few miserable Bedouin huts; but on the inhabitants assuring us that they possessed neither water nor provisions to spare, and evidently looking upon us with some suspicion, we proceeded on our way. The track was rough, and one had to clutch on to the ropes that held our scanty baggage to the camel’s backs to prevent being hurled bodily off down the steep sides of some nullah. At long length, camp-fires ahead told of some caravan bivouacking there, a sure sign of water, and our camels hurried forward, and without even a call to make them lie down, wearily deposited us amongst a group of Arabs seated round a few blazing fires. Their spears, stuck in the ground before them, flashed and flashed again in the dancing firelight; but the appearance of fierceness was belied by their kindly welcome, and an invitation to dip my fingers with them in the steaming pots of food. Watering the camels and giving them fodder, we returned once more to the fires, and spent the night in songs and story-telling.