These are small words, and may convey little or nothing of a mighty subject that will, one day, surely be our tremendous concern. For the kingdom of mankind is rapidly enlarging; and the time has come when it is fast being realised that insular completeness is over-narrow to withstand the rising flood alone. Wherefore it is no longer sufficient for any individual or country to look upon the prospect from comfortable doorstep and cry: “All is well.” Rather should each of us desire to see beyond, and comprehend the composition of the comradeship of the world as a whole, and build therefrom the character that shall fit us to sit by the fireside of any race, knowing, in the end, that we are welcomed, and have laboured faithfully to play the part of broad-minded men. And it is significant that, along the highways of the world, a vastly important part of the history of Races and Empires has been written, and not only may wise men build for strength within their abodes, but also along all paths that lead to them. Wherefore the Open Road may lead toward a goal, and nomadic restlessness be more than mere inherent instinct. However, to return to the subject of travel in the Sahara, we, as islanders, can clearly comprehend the vastness of the oceans, and the importance of the routes across them, and thereby understand the conditions that confront the inhabitants of the shores and in the “ports” of the Sahara who seek, at times, to find passage across the grim, silent wastes of the desert. But ocean and desert to-day present diverse phases of travel. The one has all that modern science and civilisation can command to make travel easy, while the other remains unchanged from the darkest ages, and is wholly primitive. [Illustration: A HALT AT AN OLD WELL] It is with the latter that this narrative has to deal in endeavour to give a few impressions of camp-fires I have known in out-of-the-way places while moving through the land, living as a nomad, carrying trivial possessions by the aid of humble beasts of burden, and camping wherever chance befell when the sun swung into the western sky—a life where one experiences the rugged edge of existence and comes to be vastly content with little pleasures, since these occur but seldom. I One of the rarest occurrences in the Sahara is rain, and the nomads tell that they have known seven years and even ten years pass without any in some localities. Twice, on the trail, I have witnessed the coming of the greatest boon that the Sahara can know; on 3rd August 1920, and again on 13th July 1922. They were memorable occurrences, and one is herein described as an incident of outdoor life not readily forgotten.