Soon, however, we were to run into a far greater danger. I rode, as usually, before the caravan with Maximilian[104] and some attendants, and left the company to follow in my donkey’s track in the sand. Toward noon we saw to our left, the Gebel Dochân, “the smoke mountain,” rising dark blue behind the Munfîeh chain; and after some hours, when we emerged from the higher mountains into a hilly but more open district, we perceived, for the first time, beyond the wide plain and the sea behind it, the far-distant mountains of Tôr, lying in a third quarter of the world, which we should soon enter upon. After three o’clock we came to two Bedouin huts, made of mats, in which we found a woman and a bright-eyed brown-complexioned boy, who gave us some milk. The boy, on my question as to whether there were any old walls in the neighbourhood, led me to a solitary granite rock, surrounded by a rough but well-laid wall ten feet in height, about an hour distant. The square, of which the rock formed the Acropolis, was seventy paces long and sixty broad; the entrance from the south had two round half-towers, the same at the four corners, and in the middle of the three other sides. Within spaces were divided off, in the centre was a well of burnt bricks, but it was now filled up.[105] According to the account of our guide, we were now in the neighbourhood of the water, which was understood to be only half a day’s journey from our last encampment. The sun, however, set without our having attained the desired goal. By the sparing light of a young moon, we at last entered a high pass, which Selîm assured us would conduct us to the well. We ascended for a long time between naked cliffs of granite; the moon set, no wells were to be seen, and the guide confessed that he had missed the right valley. We were obliged to return. The same occurred in a second and third valley, to which the evidently confused guide had directed our steps, after several changes in our route. He excused himself on account of the uncertain light of the moon, and was certain that he should find the proper road at the dawn of day. Thus there was nothing for us to do but to lie down on the hard ground in our light and airy clothes, and seek to obtain a fitful slumber, without food, without water, for our bottles were long since empty, and the little store of four biscuits per man had long been eaten. Our only defence against the cold north wind consisted of a few camel-saddles. Thus we comforted ourselves, with the stars above us and the stones beneath. As the morning dawned we mounted again. My donkey, who had drank his last spare draught of water twenty-four hours before, and who did not understand how to abstain like the camels, refused to proceed. Selîm, however, was in good spirits, and expected soon to be in the right path again. We discovered camel-tracks in great numbers. “But a little while,” exclaimed the guide, “and we shall be on the spot!” Our hopes were again animated.