I am feeling remarkably fresh. _Saturday, Dec. 17._--Started at 6.40 this morning. We are still on a boundless desert, and the heat is fearful. Mirage all about us. Meet the mail and send back postals written on our camels. We make an unusually long morning stretch of it in order to reach a rock, under whose refreshing shade we take our lunch. This region is named _Bahr El Hattab_. A slight breeze in the P.M. makes the intense heat a little more endurable. The mountains in the horizon do not seem to grow nearer. Our camels now have to be whipped and urged along. About 4 P.M. we sight the tops of the mountains in the region of Murrat. On and on we go in the darkness and silence of the night, till finally, after about 13 hours of hard riding, we pitch our camp in a sort of valley called _Ettella_. Mousa is about used up, and is found crying. _Sunday, Dec. 18._--We started at 6.50 this morning, and soon entered a region of high mountains. Here we saw a number of green bushes. Then we came out on a magnificent gravel plain. Mirage. Toward noon we came to a partial oasis, where are a number, about 200, of palms bearing a fruit peculiar to this one locality. Then a gorge. Then another valley with a few palms. Then passing a narrow defile we entered, what for a fitting name I called the “valley of lost souls.” Terrible heat. Slate mountains. On and on. No rest--no lunch till we reach Murrat. It was nearly 4 P.M. when at last we did arrive, and glad enough we were to throw ourselves down and rest the remainder of the day. The camels must have water and rest, too. There are 15 holes dug in the ground. Only three of them contain water that can be used for camels, and that is not fit to drink. Six men live here and keep the wells open. They also keep goats and crows and a half-dead donkey, which the crows already feed upon. After dinner, we had a pleasant chat with our Arab guide and others. For now, with the help of signs, we are getting so that we can talk quite a little Arabic. My Turkish is a great help, as many words are the same. The camels’ backs are so sore that they have to be seared with a hot iron. This is Sabbath eve, and I have had one quiet hour all to myself out on the sand under the stars.