[Illustration: _Village of Aredoah._] I had told more untruths in the last forty-eight hours than I liked to think about; but, curious to say, my delight at having crept through was far more keen than any remorse I felt for my wickedness. The road does not enter the town of Kátaba, for which I was by no means sorry; for under the walls of the little place we could see a large Turkish camp pitched, that of the division of the army under Ismail Pasha, which had come on here after the retaking of Dhamar and Yerim, two of the larger cities of the central Yemen. Giving them a wide range, we soon were out of sight of the camp, and after crossing the Wadi Esh-Shari, we entered wild broken country, the foot-hills of the great range of mountains that appeared to block our way ahead. A sad incident happened before leaving the _jimerouk_. A poor Turk, whom I had noticed slouching about the place in rags, came to me just as I was leaving. Kissing my hand, he besought my protection in Turkish, which an Arab in the Osmanli service translated to me. His story was a pitiable one. He had been enrolled in the conscription from some village near Smyrna, and sent with his brother to fight in the Yemen. At length, after much fighting and many privations, he reached Kátaba, where the roll of the surviving troops was called. His name was not on the list, and it was found to have been a mistake that he ever left his native country. Ismail Pasha, then at Kátaba, commanded him to be stripped of his uniform and turned loose, on the ground that he was not a soldier of the Sultan’s at all. This was done, and the poor fellow wandered away, a stranger in a strange land, until the Sheikh Besaisi took pity on him, and fed him and clothed him (!) at the custom-house. He spoke no Arabic, and the Arab interpreting for him was the only one who spoke a word of his native tongue. He prayed me to take him on with me. This unfortunately was impossible. The presence of a Turk with me would render me very liable to danger from the Arabs; but I advised him to try and reach Aden, where, being as strong and good-looking a young fellow as ever lived, I felt sure he would get work, and in time find his way back. Beyond giving him the wherewithal to find his way to Aden, I was unable in any way to assist him. Rough as the country we were passing through was, it presented here and there little patches and valleys rich in cultivation. In many places the scenery resembled a lovely garden. The lawns were barley, scarcely three inches high, while trees stood here and there about the fields. Little streams and pools of water added an effect of coolness, while the rocky hills were clothed in plants and flowers, noticeable amongst them being a scarlet-flowering aloe and a variety of the euphorbia. Great ant-heaps, some six and eight feet in height, stood like sugar-loaves amongst the rich vegetation. After a glorious sunset, night came quickly upon us, and the scenery was lost in the darkness.