On March 6 we quitted Aradeeb. The old sheikh came to our camp to see us start, and brought us hot coffee in which we ceremonially drank “peace to the village.” Throughout our journey on this day we followed the course of the river, constantly crossing gorges and khors. We reached Sofi at midday. This is the large village near which Sir Samuel Baker dwelt for five months in 1861. He has given a very full and most interesting account of the surrounding district in “The Nile Tributaries of Abyssinia.” There are rest-huts built of straw at Sofi, and we were glad to take refuge in them, though the temperature within when we arrived was 107° F. However, we were able to remove our helmets, and this we could not do in our tents in the daytime as the sun penetrated the canvas. At night the temperature was 98° F., and a hot wind was blowing strongly. Towards evening I had taken my rod to a pool in the river, but this unpleasant breeze had by that time ruffled the surface smartly, and I got no sport. I think the fish lie quietly in shelter during these storms and do not feed. Next morning we left Sofi, passed through the village of Tomat, and about midday pitched our camp five miles beyond this place opposite to the “mugra,” that is the junction of the Settite and Atbara rivers. The two streams at the point of meeting have a course about a quarter of a mile broad. The bed of the Atbara is flat and there is much shingle in it. The sandstone formation has come to an end, and the rocks which crop up here and there are of a granitic character. Very little water was flowing in either river, but a larger stream trickled in the Settite than in the other. We did not stir far from camp in the afternoon, but shot sand-grouse as they came to drink in the pools. During the day we saw tracks of lions, hyenas, and monkeys—grivets and baboons. The soil and the vegetation by the river were such as we had seen on the previous marches. A lion came into the camp during the night. We were sleeping in the open and heard him sniffing round our beds. I sang out to Dupuis, and asked him what was making the noise. He struck a light, and the beast skulked off into the bush. My two friends snatched up their rifles and hurried off to see if he meant to attack the camels. That, no doubt, had been his errand, for he left us alone, though I saw his tracks within a yard of my bed next morning. The camels, as usual, were gathered in circles near the men’s fires. They were hobbled, and I heard them stamping quickly on the ground in their fright, making a strange pattering noise. I believe they only show fear in this way when they smell a lion.