The sky grew darker and in a few minutes the rain began. Rain in Algeria is quite common on the coast in winter or spring, but rain in the neighborhood of the desert rarely comes after March, and when it does it is good for the cultivator but it is not amusing for those who travel. The first dried river-bed we came to was far from dry, the second was running with water, the dry track before the third had become a morass, the third was gurgling gaily down, and the road was an inch or so under water. At this point we punctured. We all got out and looked at the flat tire, but no one did anything. I said, “Suppose we change the wheel.” The chauffeur said, “The spare wheel is punctured too. We must change the inner tube, but I don’t think it will last long.” We got out the inner tube; it looked rather wretched, and a preliminary pump-up revealed that it held little air. Another one was found which appeared to be air-tight. The rain swept icily across the great plain. The kadi shivered and drew his burnous about him. Marhoun took off the wheel; the _bash agha_ smoked his pipe as he sat on the running-board. The _caïds_ talked and laughed at the miserable _kadi_. There was none of that fever and excitement and cursing of the chauffeur which one would have seen among Europeans on such an occasion. The chauffeur had forgotten to mend the spare wheel; it was the will of God and nothing could be done to remedy it. At last we started again, but the next _oued_ was a rushing torrent. The car floundered in water swirled about the axles, the engine roared, the chauffeur shouted something and every one, except the _bash agha_, tumbled out into the water. I followed and started pushing, while the water raced round us about up to our knees. The car began to move, and at last laboriously climbed out of the river. “Only just in time,” exclaimed Aïssa. “Look.” I did so, and I saw, to my amazement, a kind of swirling mass of water sweeping down the river, and before I could count two the _oued_ had become a raging, overflowing torrent. A few minutes sooner and car and all would have been swept away. “Luckily that is the last _oued_,” said Ali. We all got in and started off again. The chauffeur put on speed, and we bumped furiously over the holes in the road. Then the other tire went. We stopped and all got out and then all got in again. _“Ma kanch chambre à air,”_ said the chauffeur. (“No more inner tubes.”) In a few minutes the original tire went again, and we all got out again and all got back. We crawled along on the rims. Suddenly I became aware that my feet were getting very cold and wet. I could not understand. I asked Madani, but he had reached a state when he no longer seemed to care. He was telling his beads.