On Saturday the 6th of March, we moved on six and a half miles, to the main encampment of the Jâhalîn in Wâdy Seiyâl. The wind was so strong, that in crossing the great ridges we were scarcely able to sit on our horses. We saw a large body of cavalry at one of the Arab encampments, sent by the Government to settle the recent quarrel with the Dhullâm. In the afternoon I looked down from a high ridge upon the main camp of Abu Dahûk, and sent our scribe to announce my arrival. I then rode up to the principal tent, and was invited to enter, but I noticed that the Arabs were extremely surly, owing no doubt to recent defeats. “You have brought the Tâ’amireh here,” said Abu Dahûk, a most villainous-looking young chief, half negro in features. “Is this their land?” I asked. “No, by the life of Allah,” he said fiercely; “all the land to Engedi is ours.” I told him that I had lived three years in the Arab country, and knew their customs. “Tâ’amireh in Tâ’amireh country, Jâhâlîn in Jâhâlîn land” were, I said, my guides and friends. This speech was received with much satisfaction, and coffee was handed round. The tribe, however, impressed me very unfavourably, as dirty, and ill-mannered, in comparison with others. In about an hour the rest of the party arrived, and the camp was set up, but the great wind still blew fiercely, and the rain began at night. We passed a wretched Sunday in the wind and rain, the poor horses suffering from the cold, and standing over their fetlocks in mud. I was pestered with visits from the Arabs, who sat and blew down their empty pipes as a hint to me to fill them. At length Abu Dahûk asked point-blank for a pipeful, but I told him I could not fill a “finjan” (coffee-cup), in allusion to the enormous size of the pipe-bowls of the whole tribe. In the afternoon I turned out the party in order to exercise the horses by riding them bareback. The Arabs admired this exhibition extremely, and brought out their guns and fired them off to give greater effect to the Fantazîa. Monday came, and still the high wind blew and the cold drizzle descended. Our stores had quite run out, and there was neither barley for the horses, nor food for the men; so I ordered a march to Hebron, sixteen miles distant, the Survey work being finished, excepting a piece which could be done on the way. Poor old Hamzeh, curled up on a little pony, looked the picture of misery, though he still strove to be useful as a guide. The beasts groaned and the dogs whined; a mule fell, and was with difficulty reloaded; the wind blew the loads over to one side, and the beasts at times refused to face it. By 8 p.m. the whole party was, however, safely lodged in a Jew’s house in Hebron.