We were camped for a few days on a small, rocky knoll on the bank of a dry, deep-channelled river-bed. For months past the heat of the desert had waxed greater and greater, until the weather had become unbearably stifling and oppressive. There was no relief in the surroundings; a wasteland of sad colourings, made up of pale sand and occasional sun-bleached grass tufts. It was the kind of environment that drives men to madness if the mind is not occupied. There was a subdued tenseness abroad; and almost a gesture of mute appeal, for in truth the whole land was overstrained and panting for relief—and rains were due, if they were to come this year. For an evening or two heat lightning lit the eastern horizon, and a few distant clouds hung about. . . . And then the great gift of the gods was delivered. The big storm descended with astonishing suddenness, one early afternoon, and in no time the clear blue sky and sun-flooded land became transformed into a dark inferno of raging elements. Our first warning of impending events came from a huge, ominous cloud that rolled over the land from the south-west, like a low black column of bush-fire smoke. It was the vanguard dust-churnings of a mighty hurricane, and with something of consternation the frail encampment prepared to crouch before the onslaught. But we had barely time to bundle valued possessions under canvas, and run round tent-ropes to test their security, before a fierce gale, filled with stinging dust and sand, swooped hungrily upon camp. And then the battle raged. All hands struggled to keep the tents intact, orders were bawled that went unheard, for they were torn at the point of utterance and ruthlessly tossed into the vortex of the storm. Lurid lightning flashed and thunder roared above our heads; followed by a hissing deluge of torrential rains. Still we battled with unruly ropes and canvas that buffeted in the gale like ship-sails fouled in a treacherous wind, while all were drenched to the skin, and water literally streamed from our thin clothing. Matches, maps, notes—everything that happened to be in my pockets—was drowned to clammy pulp. [Illustration: AN ANCIENT SAHARAN WELL NOTE HOW BEAMS ARE CUT WITH FRICTION OF ROPES. BELOW-GROUND THE SIDES ARE OF MASONRY] Camp-fires hissed and spluttered, and were quickly quenched; and in no time the tranquil camp of half an hour ago was no more than a skeleton of bedraggled possessions and woebegone occupants.