There is ancient history along our route, not to speak of legends innumerable. The little village of Suk Wadi Barada or “Barada Valley Market,” was once called Abila, and was the chief city of the Tetrarchy of Abilene, the fixed date of whose establishment helps us to compute the chronology of the Gospels.[14] The valley itself is still known here as Abila; and therefore, through a characteristic confusion of names, the Moslems locate the grave of Abel on the summit of an adjoining hill. Cain, they say, was at his wits’ end how to dispose of the dead body of his brother, for burial was of course unknown to him; so the murderer carried the corpse on his back many days, seeking in vain a place where he might securely conceal the evidence of his crime. At last, according to the Koran, “God sent a raven which scratched upon the ground, to show him how he might hide his brother’s corpse.”[15] Across the ravine from Suk Wadi Barada we can see the remains of an ancient road hewn in the solid rock, and a ruined aqueduct which some say was built by Queen Zenobia to carry the water of the Abana across the desert to Palmyra. It is almost certain, however, that both road and aqueduct, as well as the tombs whose openings appear higher up in the cliff, were constructed in the second century by the Romans. Ain Fijeh, the next important village, bears a peculiarly redundant name, which reminds us of German Baden-Baden. The first word is Arabic and the second is a corruption of the Greek _pege_, and both mean “spring.” But, after all, “Spring Spring” is not such a bad name; for there gushes from a cave in the rock such an abundant fountain that the Abana here increases threefold in volume, and mediæval Arab geographers, as well as the modern inhabitants of the mountains, are unanimous in considering this the principal source of the river. From the cold, clear spring, a small tile aqueduct has for the last few years carried drinking-water to Damascus. Unfortunately, however, only a few of the more important buildings are as yet supplied from this source, and the common people are loath to journey to the public fountains when there are all over the city so many nearer—and dirtier—streams from which to draw. “The Moslems, especially, prefer to drink water which runs in the open rather than that which is piped,” said a native physician in answer to my questions as to the health of Damascus. “So, you see,” he added facetiously, “my practice has not suffered appreciably since the completion of the aqueduct.” [Illustration: An old bridge over the Barada River] [Illustration: Cascade falling over the edge of the Hauran into the Yarmuk Valley]