On the morning of the 3rd of March, we were visited by a kind of simoon, a violent wind, accompanied by a dusty mist which hid the sea. Our tents were in the greatest danger of being blown over the cliff, and they soared up like balloons, being only kept back by turning out the whole party to hold the ropes. I now saw reason to credit the stories of fighting having occurred farther south, and it seemed well to have some one with us who was known to the Jâhalîn Arabs. I sent therefore to Hebron, and in the evening old Sheikh Hamzeh--the well-known guide whom Professor Palmer employed, and who accompanied Dr. Tristram--came into camp. Though over eighty years of age, he had walked all the way, seventeen miles, in about six hours. Next morning we parted from our Tâ’amireh friends, for whom I had a great liking, and we marched south. None of the animals had been watered for about twelve hours, and the eagerness with which the horses rushed over slippery rocks to a pool left by the rains was not surprising. Our new camp was on an open plateau, nine miles from Engedi, beside a rock-cut tank, full of water, and the water full of frogs--the only supply for drinking within several miles. This place is called Bîr esh Sherky, “the Eastern well.” Rain fell during the night, but the morning was fine, and we set out to visit the magnificent fortress of Sebbeh, or Masada, the last Jewish stronghold after the destruction of Jerusalem by Titus. Old Hamzeh was mounted on a pony and rode gaily before us, flourishing his pipe, while his white beard floated in the wind, as he carolled a war-song in a very cracked voice. We had five of the Jâhalîn Arabs with us, whom we had picked up from the neighbourhood; they were the hardiest runners I have ever seen in any country, their muscles being strung like whipcord, and their lungs magnificent. Scantily clad, shod with sandals, and armed with long fowling-pieces, which were brass-bound, with flint locks, they trotted in front of the horses as we cantered. After passing over undulating hills, we reached the head of a gorge finer than any we had seen before, and crossing the shingly bed of the great valley, we climbed on to a white plain, at the end of which, eight miles from camp, we perceived an isolated square block of hill, with a flat plateau at the top, and vertical walls of rock all round. This crag has a great valley on either side, and a narrow plain beneath it on the east, reaching to the Dead Sea shore. As we descended into the northern gorge, we saw a large herd of what I at first took for gazelles, but as they cantered across the plain their great rounded horns showed them to be the Beden, or ibex, the “wild goats” of the Bible, which abound among the precipices in this pathless waste.