At six o'clock we halt at a well for ten minutes to give our mule a drink. This is last water before reaching our baggage camels. Riding camels may not be ridden for some time after they have drunk water. On from the wells until eight o'clock, when we halt for a cup of tea and a biscuit, overhaul the gear and give the camels an hour's rest. From nine until midnight we trot through the moonlight, passing many caravans travelling as we, at night; nothing can cross this plain when the sun is high. From twelve to one another halt, then up to catch our first glimpse of the hills to which we go. The caravans hail us as we pass, "Salaam, aleikum!" (Peace be on you!) To which we reply, "Wa aleikim, Salaam!" (And on you be peace!) I am shown the spot where a policeman died of thirst, and another where a Midgan fell behind the caravan he was accompanying, and likewise perished. From four to five we halt once more, and, taking water from our well-filled chaguls (canvas water-bags), make a cup of sorely needed tea. Day is breaking so we must not loiter. At nine o'clock, thoroughly tired out, we ride into Bokh, a watering-place at the foot of the Somaliland maritime hills. The road over the plain we have passed--we have covered sixty-five miles--should be passable for camels only, but the wonderful little mule carrying Mahomed, the interpreter, has trotted beside us and enters camp as fresh as paint; that is to say he looks no more tired, for he always looks tired, than he did yesterday. Bokh has wells, hence its importance. My tent is pitched on a flat, stony, open piece of ground at the foot of the hills and close to one of these wells. As I write two girls are leaving it with goat-skins, full of water, strapped to their shoulders. Three camels packed with hides emerge from the bush beyond the well, led by an elderly man who carries spear and circular shield. He is followed by an individual dressed in dirty cotton knickers, a French military coat, and with head and face almost hidden by a dirty cloak. This latter person is from Abyssinia, and carries a Gras carbine. The camel is laden with earthenware pots filled with ghee, cunningly packed in bent cane guards. Now a large kafila[8]--some half-dozen men and as many women--has arrived, and its owners are relieving the camels of skins and ghee they bring. Loads off, the men and a couple of women, lead the animals to the wells. In their hands they carry home-made wooden basins which they fill with water for the beasts to drink. The other women are arranging the loads, bringing firewood, or lighting the fires. Their clothes are dirty and they seem tired, though they set so briskly about their work. [8] Caravan.