Many days' march westward from the road which the Byzantines were following toward Carthage, and a considerable distance south of Mount Auras, the extreme limit of the Vandal kingdom in Africa, lay a small oasis. It was within the sandy desert which extended southward into the unknown interior of the hot portion of the globe. A spring of drinkable water, a few date-palms in the circle around it, and, beneath their shade, a patch of turf of salt grass, affording sufficient fodder for the camels--that was all. The ground in the neighborhood was flat, except that here and there rose waves of the yellow, loose, hot sand swept together by the wind. Nowhere appeared shrub, bush, or hillock; as far as the eye could rove in the brightest light of day, it found no resting-place till, wearied by the quest, it sought some point close at hand. But it was night now, and wonderfully, indescribably magnificent was the silent solitude. Over the whole expanse of the heavens the stars were glittering in countless multitudes with a brilliancy which they show only to the sons of the desert. It is easy to understand that deity first appeared to the Moors in the form of the stars. In them they worshipped the radiant, beneficent forces which contrasted benignly with the desert's scorching heat, the desert's storms. From the course, position, and shining of the stars, they augured the will of the gods and their own future. Around the spring were pitched the low goatskin tents of the nomad Moors, only half a dozen of them, for the whole tribe had not gathered. The faithful camels, carefully tethered by the feet among the tent ropes, and covered with blankets to protect them from the stings of the flies, were lying in the deep sand with their long necks outstretched. In the centre of the little encampment were the noble racers, the battle stallions, and the brood mares, confined in a circle made with ropes and lances thrust into the sand. On the round top of one of the tents towered a long spear, from whose point hung a lion's skin; for this was the shelter of the chief. The night wind, which blew refreshingly from the distant sea in the northeast, played with the mane of the dead king of the wilderness, sometimes tossing the skin of the huge paw, sometimes the tuft of hair at the end of the tail. Fantastic shadows fell on the light sandy soil; for though the moon was not in the sky, the stars shone bright. A deep, solemn stillness reigned. Every living creature seemed buried in sleep. Four huge fires, one at each of the four points of the compass, were blazing, a bow-shot from the tents, to frighten the wild beasts from the flocks; from them arose at long intervals the only sound that broke the stillness; namely, the cry of some shepherd who thus kept himself awake and warned his companions to be watchful. This solemn silence continued for a long, long time.