They came to the end of the highlands in a bare brown shoulder thrust out over a chasm wide and deep, no mere wady of the hills like those they had hitherto traversed, but a trench cut below the surface of the world. It parted the mountain lands to east and west. Upon the plain in its depths, through mists of heat, they could see the belt of foliage coiling like a snake, which marked the course of the river. In the south, at no great distance, the valley widened to inclose a dazzling sheet the eye avoided, a memorial of God’s wrath, the Sea of Lot. Here they came up with the Circassians and Shibli, who had stopped for consultation. “What sayest thou, O my dear?” cried Hassan. “Shall we rest to-night in the plain yonder; or, for the day is yet young, shall we push on nearer to El Cûds? Decide, I pray thee.” “Let us hasten onward,” replied Shems-ud-dìn. His prayer all yesterday and this morning had been that Alia might die in a house peacefully, that death might deal gently with her, as would not be the case did she expire amid the jolt and rocking of that crazy palanquin. He was therefore for pushing on as far as might be. But soon after they began to descend, the path being steep and rough so that the mules moved jerkily with frequent slips, a shriek came from Fatmeh within the litter; and when all halted and crowded round, Alia was discovered lifeless. Mâs, with the ready help of Zeyd ebn Abbâs, lifted her out and bore her, duly veiled, to where a jutting rock spread a fan of shadow. Everyone thought her dead. But Fatmeh, with a snort of contempt, bade them all stand back. She removed the veil from the girl’s face, and began to chafe one of her hands, bidding Shems-ud-dìn do the like with the other; she wetted her fingers in her mouth and laid them to Alia’s forehead; with the result that presently the life returned. Alia drew a gasping breath and her eyelids fluttered. “Praise to Allah!” cried the onlookers. “Praise to Allah, in truth!” cried Fatmeh, with a point of scorn. “Small praise to anyone else here present! It is the fatigue, of course, O my poor one, O my dove! How should it be otherwise when she has been jarred so many hours in yonder box, which would kill even a jinni, I think, with its lurch and the creak of the poles. Let her lie in peace to-day, and she may live to see El Cûds. Hurry on, and she will die on the way! Allah knows that, for truth.” There could be no further question as to where they should halt for the night. Alia was carried back to the litter, and they resumed their march down into El Ghûr.