A tremendous climb takes one to the summit of the pass, where there is an old round tower, now used as a watch-house by the Turks. The path is extremely steep, and, though roughly paved, so slippery that all riding up was impossible, while the rarefied air made the climb by no means an easy or a pleasant one. The summit I found by observation to lie nine thousand one hundred feet above the sea-level, about eleven hundred feet above the city of Dhamar. A steep descent and an hour’s ride along a broken valley brought us to the large village of Khadar, where we rested for an hour over pipes and coffee. The place is a picturesque one, though greatly lacking in vegetation. The upper portion of the village is situated on the summit of a precipitous hill, and is walled, while every available peak holds the usual tower-house. The few buildings that stand near the road are for the most part caravanserais and _cafés_. The inhabitants are almost entirely Jews, who, like certain tribes of their co-religionists that I have seen in the Atlas Mountains, are cultivators of the soil and agriculturists. A small mosque, the only whitewashed building in the place, shows, however, that there must be some Moslem inhabitants in Khadar. A wild group were seated at the door of one of the _cafés_, Arabs and camels from Mareb, whence they were bringing salt. Our mutual curiosity in each other led to conversation, and I found them good fellows on the whole, though rougher in manners than the Yemenis I had as yet come in contact with. Two hours after leaving Khadar we reached our night’s resting-place, Waalan, the best-built village we had as yet come across. The size and solidity of the houses was astonishing; and when, on being led up a staircase and along a wide passage into a beautifully clean room in a handsome khan, the change from the quarters we had as yet found on our journey in the other villages, almost took one’s breath away. Our chamber, which commanded a fine view of several surrounding villages through large windows opening down to the ground, was well whitewashed, the doors and window-shutters being handsomely carved of polished dark wood, and with a ceiling of the same material overhead. The change from what we had been accustomed to was a most pleasant one, and we soon made ourselves comfortable. A dear old lady, and a very tolerably clean one, waited upon us, and insisted on cooking our dinner, a task usually shared by Abdurrahman and Saïd—and very well she did it too. [Illustration: VIEW FROM WAALAN.] This appearance of cleanliness and civilisation was a sure sign that we were nearing the capital, and I turned in to rest that night with a feeling of satisfaction, for only a few hours’ ride lay between us and Sanaa.