On March 15 we arrived at the River Gash just outside Kassala. Its course here lies in a flat, sandy bed, which was quite dry. During the journey—eighteen and a half miles—we saw eight ostriches. The Gash, beyond Kassala, splits into numerous small streams which, even in the rainy season, sink into the ground and disappear completely. Sir Samuel Baker has given an account of the river at that time of the year, which shows its importance in relation to produce and water-supply in the district. “As we approached within about twenty-five miles of Kassala, I remarked that the country on our left was in many places flooded; the Arabs, who had hitherto been encamped in this neighbourhood during the dry season were migrating to other localities in the neighbourhood of Soojalup and Gozerajup with their vast herds of camels and goats. As rain had not fallen in sufficient quantity to account for the flood, I was informed that it was due to the river Gash, or Mareb, which, flowing from Abyssinia, passed beneath the walls of Kassala, and then divided into innumerable ramifications; it was eventually lost, and disappeared in the porous soil, after having flooded a large extent of country. This cause accounted for the never-failing wells at Soojalup—doubtless a substratum of clay prevented the total escape of the water, which remained at a depth of forty feet from the surface. The large tract of country thus annually flooded by the river Gash is rendered extremely fruitful, and is the resort of both the Hadendowa and the Hallonga Arabs during the dry season, who cultivate large quantities of dhurra and other grain. Unfortunately, in these climates, fertility of soil is generally combined with unhealthiness, and the commencement of the rainy season is the signal for fevers and other maladies.”[118] [Illustration: KASSALA HILL AND MARKET-PLACE. _See p._ 205.] We were now close to the curious and isolated eminence called Kassala Hill, which stands within the border-line of the colony of Eritrea. We had seen this towering landmark when we were more than forty miles distant from it, and a whole day’s travelling had seemed to bring us no nearer to it. It offers a splendid sight in the desert, when the setting sun shines on the bare pile of red granite. I was told that in the days when the Italians occupied Kassala, Alpine climbers, with elaborate paraphernalia, had attempted the ascent, but failed in all cases to reach the summit. There is a superstition among the natives that any one who tries to scale the heights will die shortly afterwards, and this belief has been confirmed among them by the death of Colonel Collinson, a former Moudir of the town, who made the last endeavour of which I heard, and succumbed to fever six months afterwards.