We left the camp at midday, after six guinea-fowl had been brought in, and struck into the waterless country between our halting-place and Gedaref. The distance is seventy-two miles. We were obliged to carry the drinking supply for the whole journey. Our route lay along a good track that follows the line of the telegraph. The soil in this region is soft, friable earth, perfectly adapted for cotton cultivation. But the district is unhealthy in the rainy season, when malaria prevails and the country is a reeking swamp of dead and living vegetation. It was perfectly dry when we traversed it, and we ran no risk of disease. The tangle of desiccated tall grass lay upon the ground, as in so many tracts of this part of the Soudan, and our road was bordered by mimosa shrubs. They grow thickly in places, but were not high enough to give protection from the sun. We halted for the night at five o’clock, and unpacked only our beds and such things as were strictly necessary, for we were to start at half-past four next morning. I was very sleepy when I was roused at 3.30 a.m. on the 18th. We had a cup of cocoa, and then left our camping-ground at the appointed time by moonlight. The air was chilly even after the sun rose at six o’clock, and the warmth of the day did not make itself felt before eight. At half-past ten we halted for a _déjeuner à la fourchette_, and rested for a couple of hours. Darkness had fallen by the time we reached our camping-ground at the place called Terras Wad-el-Fau. We had covered thirty-two miles of our journey since the morning. At this spot we rejoiced to find that an Egyptian soldier in charge of two _fantasses_ (watertanks) had been sent to meet us by the Inspector of Gedaref. Our camel-men with the baggage were some distance behind us, and we lighted a bonfire of mimosa wood to cheer them forward. They overtook us at their leisure, and our dinner of stewed guinea-fowl was not served till a quarter to ten.