Arrived at the village, which was called Wallad, of so miserable a description that it could not even furnish a jar of milk, notwithstanding we produced both needles and beads,—a new difficulty arose; for although the camels were sought after and brought in safe by the people, yet my servant Columbus, who was behind on a mule, did not make his appearance: we were in considerable anxiety, both on account of the wild beasts and these pits, which were almost equally frightful. Our alarm was a good deal increased when, after having sent people in every direction, giving them pistols, and desiring them to fire signals, and not return without him, the people of the village came running to the jujube tree under which we were resting, to tell us that Columbus and the mule had fallen into one of these blaquas, and that they believed the mule was dead. We hastened to the spot, and found the poor mule indeed very near it: she was sticking on four stakes, one in her flank, and two in her hind quarter, with her knees dreadfully torn by struggling. Had she been a larger and heavier animal, nothing could have saved her: the man had, by a violent exertion, thrown himself out, how he knew not, almost as soon as he fell in, and had escaped with his leg only bruised. He said he had lost his way hours before, and had climbed to the top of several tamarind-trees, in order to discover traces of our route, without success: once he thought he heard a gun, but having only two charges of powder with him, he kept them as a defence against the wild animals at night, and was afraid to answer the signal.