Wherever we stopped, we all got out for a breath of air. For as we passed stage after stage, the sameness of the desert began to be tiring, especially to the children. This was not to be wondered at; for, except the occasional skeleton of some poor camel, whose bones were bleached by the sun, there was really nothing to interest them. Hugh consoled himself with a nap now and then, but Lucy was wakeful and restless. At last we reached the midway station, where we were to stop for nearly an hour, and to dine. "How glad I am to get out of this stuffy little van, and to stay out of it for a good while!" Lucy cried, as she jumped down on the sand. So was everybody. "Will they give us some dinner?" Certainly, this was the only thing we had to wait for. We went into a large room, in which were long tables, and benches at them. The dinner was soon brought in. Dishes of fowl and stewed cabbage, dried fruits, and fresh dates, succeeded one another, with plenty of bottled beer. There was no bread. But some of the older travellers had brought some loaves from the _Bentinck_, and were very good-natured in dividing their store with their fellow-passengers. [Illustration: SUEZ] After dinner we had some coffee, which we found very refreshing; and soon the vans were announced. In a few minutes we were in our old seats again, cutting our path through the sand and jolting over large blocks of stone. "There is another skeleton, papa," cried Hugh, pointing to the whitened ribs of a camel. "Do they leave the camels to die, and take no trouble to bury them or do anything with them?" "Most likely this camel was unable to travel farther," his father said, "either from fatigue or old age, and so was left behind by his owner to die. The hot wind and the sun together have bleached his bones. But the skin and hair of the dead camel are both used by the people of the desert. They are made into clothes, mats, halters, and many other useful things." "Yes," said Hugh, in a sleepy voice; and the next minute down went his head on his father's shoulder. Lucy, too, was all but asleep. She was heartily tired of the jolting van and the changeless dreary sand. The day had worn on rather wearily to her, and now that night was setting in she felt cold and tired. She was wrapped up in a large shawl, and made a pillow of her mother's lap. Indeed, we were all tired. And as night closed in, and all became dark around us, we began to feel that there was weariness in crossing the desert, notwithstanding the deep interest connected with it. [Illustration]