The heat of the day having passed by, we continued our march, cutting off the bend of the river over a ground which was at first bare and destitute of vegetation, but after a while became overgrown with stunted talha trees, a few siwák, and a great profusion of retem; till, after a march of two miles, the river again approached on our right, being here free from rocks and bordered by a grassy lowland richly clad with the famous býrgu. On our left, a few tobacco plantations gave proof of a certain degree of industry on the part of the natives, although on this side only a nomadic encampment was to be seen, but on the opposite bank a hamlet appeared. The whole of this district belongs to Tin-sherífen. As the river takes here a very winding course, meandering along between steep banks, we again left it at some distance on our right, ascending from a low swampy inlet upon higher ground, where we passed another Tawárek encampment, and then, as darkness was setting in, we again descended to the green shore, where the river seemed to be obstructed by islands. Parallel with the bank, a shallow grassy swamp stretched along, and from beyond the southern bank, a little higher up, a village was seen. On the largest of the islands, which was at the same time the nearest to our side, was the residence of Kára, the father of a young man named Sála, one of the pupils of El Bakáy. This was the reason why my companions, notwithstanding the darkness of the evening, and although the island was at present separated from the mainland by a deep channel, entertained the absurd idea of crossing over to the latter. It was only after much uncertainty, and a great deal of dispute, that we decided upon encamping on the narrow neck between the swamp and the river.