My husband tried to ascend the highest peak in the island--Driate it is called by the Bedouin--but when he had gone as far as possible the peak soared above him about 400 feet sheer and impracticable, quite bare of vegetation. An Alpine Club would find plenty of amusement in Sokotra. The bottoms and sides of the valleys, filled with bulbous plants and rank vegetation, enormous dragon's-blood-trees, the long valleys of Fereghet and Yehazahaz winding their way to the coast, the rugged mass of Bit Molek, and the view over both seas make, my husband said, as interesting a natural view as it is possible to conceive. The clouds had fortunately rolled themselves up for the occasion. We had, however, during our stay so much wet that we had a special fire to dine by, and by it a very rudely constructed clothes-horse to dry our dripping garments. Our kitchen fire was the constant resort of the Bedouin of the neighbourhood, coming to see us and bring provisions to sell. We had plenty of milk and one day bought a tiny calf for three rupees. The camel-men who skinned it tried to keep the head as their perquisite, but Matthaios secured it and put it in our soup. To our surprise the two Somali servants, Hashi and Mahmoud, would in consequence eat none of the soup nor any meat. They usually ate anything that was going. A lame Bedou brought us some green oranges and potatoes, which were really the roots of a convolvulus: they were not bad when baked in the ashes, but hard when boiled. He also brought us a sweet herb which they use to stuff pillows with. The greetings of the Bedou always amuse us; they first put cheek to cheek and then rub noses in the most matter-of-fact way, so we may infer that this mode of salutation is in vogue in the Mahra country. It was pleasant to be among such friendly people, who had no horror of us and did not even seem much surprised at seeing us there, and to be able to go off quite alone for a scramble so safely. CHAPTER XXXIV BACK TO THE OCEAN After several days at Adahan we climbed down northward. Our journey was only three miles along a very narrow valley, but we made much more of it climbing after plants and shells. We stopped at the first little flat place that would hold our tents, a sort of small shelf more than knee-deep in that awful grass; and though we really enjoyed that camp for two days, pain was our portion all the time. The scenery was magnificent, and all the more striking that the mountains, having cast off their lichen covering, gleamed out in their glowing red. All round us there was such steepness that it was a work of great difficulty to set up my camera anywhere.