We waited with intense anxiety the return of the scout. Many people got upon the walls to look out. At length, at noon the 25th, a single camel was descried on the dull red glare of the Saharan horizon. This was the Senawanee. A number of people ran to him. "Where are the Shânbah?" "Where?" "Shânbah?" The messenger said nothing--he was dumb. A crowd gets round him--he's still dumb. He enters the Rais's hall of conference, and squats down in the presence of his Excellency. He speaks now, and calls for coffee. The Rais gets furiously agitated at the moment of breaking silence. The scout very calmly sips off his coffee, and strokes down his beard, and then deigned to satisfy Governor, Kady, officers, and the men, women, and children, who were now pressing upon him with dreadful agitation. "Oh, Bey! (raising himself from the floor, fixing his eyes now on the Bey, and now on the people, and putting his fore-finger of the right hand on the thumb of the left)--I went to the sand. I got there when the sun was gone down. The camel lay down, and so did I lay down on the sand. We watched all night. I fear no one but God!--(Here was a general hum of approbation.)--Two hours before the _fidger_, (break of day) I looked up and saw pass by me, at a distance of from here to The Spring, nine _Bughar_ (wild-bullocks). They came and went, and went and came, snuffing up the sand and bellowing. The man and the boy, who cut the wood yesterday, saw the _Bughar_. But the wild oxen are not the Shânbah!" As soon as he mentioned the _Bughar_, the people rushing out of the Bey's apartment, ran away, and before I could get my dinner, a portion of the ghafalah was on the move. The Rais said to me, "Get off, make haste--make haste." I then went down to load the nagah again, but found it very difficult; seeing the other camels passing on, she would not stop to be laden. At length my turjeman came and arranged all. Said observed that the obstinacy of the nagah was a bad omen. His Excellency the Governor came to see me off, and gave me an affectionate shake of the hands. I then met his confidential man Abd-Errahman, who said to me, "Rais has given you in charge of all the people of the ghafalah, (about sixty persons"). This was kind of the Governor, and better, perhaps, than being in the charge of one individual. But still I couldn't help thinking, that what is many persons' business is nobody's business. The turjeman accompanied us some distance, chatting with Said. He carried with him a quantity of date-tree fibrous netting, and was twisting bands as he followed us. We soon parted. I then passed my old friend the good-natured Arab doctor. His parting blessing spoke the native goodness of his heart: "Day cool, route wide, route Fezzan, ghafalah large, Shânbah there are none--God bless you, farewell!"