In due course the strange, diminutive, sand-blown oasis of Fachi was reached, and a week later Bilma. And, when the harvest of salt-cones was bartered for and loaded, without delay the _Taralum_ set out on the return journey; fearful of tarrying, even at the oases because of the poverty of food for camels or men. Indeed, the sand-surrounded oases were almost as appallingly barren as the desert around them, except for their groves of dates, which bore no fruit at that season of the year. On the way back to Aïr, the prolonged strain told most heavily toward the end, partly from natural causes, and partly as a result of having subsisted overlong on scant nourishment. Indeed, so closely gauged were the food supplies of the _Taralum_ that they began to give out before the end, even under the most rigid economy. Men and animals weakened perceptibly. Of the former, nearly everyone limped when walking on foot, most of them suffering from numerous dry cracks that had opened cruelly in toes and soles of sandalled feet, through the extreme dryness of the atmosphere and the cutting friction of hot, bone-dry sand. Even Efali, the fine old guide, had the appearance of a broken man in the end; limping, and stooping almost double, though, at the start, he had presented a trim, nimble figure remarkable for a man of his age. Some camels died on the outward journey, but many more were lost on the way back. Those were individual losses, a few here and there in almost every company, and the total loss in the _Taralum_ was not recorded as a whole. But, on the third day before the end, it was common news that no fewer than forty camels had fallen out, unable to struggle on at the pace the caravan travelled. These were left behind in the tracks of the caravan, some at the point of death, others to take their chance of struggling through, unloaded, at their own gait. [Illustration: EFALI] After twenty-seven days on the desert the caravan drew near to the friendly foot-hills of Aïr, and, when the first dim outline could be discerned, it was akin to sighting land after a long voyage at sea. To all, these distant hills were a vastly pleasant sight because of their relief from the monotony of sand, and doubly pleasant because they represented home. Next day we were among them, and how peaceful they seemed, and restful to the eyes! One forgot their customary barrenness in an ecstasy of delight in their tangible solidity and sheltering slopes. I caught myself at sundown listening dreamily, as if to some rare music, and awoke to the fact that it was only a cricket chirping a homily in the grass. Yet it was a volume of sweet sound after the silence of the great empty spaces. On the 21st of November we recamped at Tabello, and after a day’s rest speedily dispersed our diverse ways.