In traversing Palestine, the railway follows practically a straight line from Deraa to Ma’an, some 250 miles to the south, and runs roughly parallel with the River Jordan, which is some miles to the west, while on the east stretches the vast Stoney Plain to the valleys of the Tigris and Euphrates. Taken on the whole, these 250 miles were completed very rapidly, as there were no adverse physical difficulties to be overcome. It was after leaving Ma’an to penetrate the wild and but little-known Hedjaz Peninsula that the engineer’s bitterest struggle for mastery over Nature began. It was as if the mythical Genii of the Lamp, resenting the unlocking of the door to their kingdom, combined in their efforts to baffle the railway engineer. Owing to the rugged character of the country the changes in level are frequent and heavy, varying from 200 or 300 feet below, to nearly 4000 feet above, the level of the Red Sea. There are few main lines in any part of the world that rise and fall so extensively and continuously. Fortunately, in forcing the band of steel through this wild country, the engineer was able to proceed where he liked. It is simply a vast, silent waste of sand, with the rocks and mountains jutting their heads to the sky as the island eyries of the sea fowl rise from the sea. A deviation of a few hundred feet to the east or west of the air-line to avoid a saucer-like depression, with its heavy gradients, was quite immaterial. Yet even with these advantages it was not possible always to avoid sharp curves and counter-curves, heavy embankments, or the blasting of deep cuttings through large clumps of rocks. The engineer carried his line south of Ma’an steadily upwards along the longitudinal ridge of a plateau, until at last he gained an altitude of 3,700 feet. Then the bank dropped sheer into a picturesque wild chasm known as Batn-el-Ghoul, or “the Devil’s Belly.” The line reached the brink of the precipice. From there it had to be carried to the bed of the ravine which inclines to Tabuk, the next important point on the railway. But how was that gorge to be entered? how could the lower level be gained? A detour so as to avoid the escarpment was impossible, as the ridge stretched for miles on either hand. Meissner Pasha hurried to the railhead. He surveyed every foot of ground in the vicinity, at one time clinging tenaciously to a crag; at another being swung over a cliff by a rope; then perched on a jagged pinnacle eagerly searching for some solution of his difficulty. He traversed the pilgrim road, which is but a mere trail dropping into the valley in a series of steep steps, time after time. The railway could not be carried parallel with the caravan road--that was perfectly obvious. The line of the overland route, which had for so long been a reliable guide, now deserted him. But the engineer refused to be daunted, and after prolonged reconnoitring he finally evolved a remarkable project, which proved a highly successful solution.