“Should I permit the men of Kufra to say that Bukara could not endure hunger and had killed a camel?” he retorted proudly.
Bukara is very fond of his wife. When we reached Arkenu he said to me: “I am feeling better now, but I cried like a child when I said good-by to my washoon at Kufra. It is always like that when I begin my journeys. If the company is good I forget more quickly.”
CHAPTER XVIII
NIGHT MARCHES TO ERDI
SUNDAY, May 6. We got away at 6:45 P.M. and made a good twelve hours’ trek of fifty-four kilometers. It was a thoroughly tiring performance, however, as the first night’s march was likely to be. The men had had no chance to sleep during the day, but on the contrary had been busier than usual. In spite of our weariness the loads had to be carefully watched and readjusted every now and then. At dawn most of the men dropped back for short naps.
One of the camels broke away and ran back toward Ouenat; Malkenni had to leave the caravan at midnight and go after it.
There was moonlight the latter half of the night and a refreshing cool breeze at three in the morning. The camels grazed, as they went, on the grass which grew here because of the water coming down from the hills.
When we came to make camp one of our best girbas was found torn and half empty. It was a misfortune, for we could not spare water on the trek that was before us. We had to go ten days before reaching a well. Malkenni and the runaway camel did not appear during the day.
My diary runs: