“How are we going to march?” demands a voice from the darkness.
“Let the wind fan the back of your black neck, and you won’t go much wrong,” answers Bukara with a laugh.
A few hours later Mohammed grips my hand and, pointing to the sand-dunes ahead, ejaculates with deep feeling: “The gherds! Praise be to God! God is generous!” He is perfectly cheerful again.
The storm soon subsided completely, and we were among the sand-dunes. The sky was perfectly clear now, and even the most pessimistic of the men could have no more anxiety. But our little experience in this sand-storm demonstrated what a touch-and-go business desert trekking could be at times. It was only my compass that saved us from a very serious situation.
Mohammed was doubtful of the wisdom of trying to cross the gherds in the darkness, and so we made our camp where we were.
Thursday, May 10. Start at 4:15 A.M., halt at 8:45 A.M., start again at 4:30 P.M., halt at 7 A.M. (of the 11th). Make 75 kilometers. Fine and clear. Strong cold wind in the early morning, moderating later. Highest temperature 38°. Sand-dunes, 2 kilometers in width, of very soft sand, dangerous in places. Then ordinary serira. At 5:30 P.M. country is interspersed with patches of black and white stone like that before reaching Kufra. At 3 A.M. of the 11th enter zone of dry grass on flat soft sands. At 4:30 A.M. pass belt of sand-dunes.
In the early morning we got under way to cross the gherds and speedily realized how serious a mistake it would have been to tackle them in the darkness. They were very steep, and the sand was treacherously soft. The camels sank to their knees and had to be helped by the men. It took us three quarters of an hour to cross them. We halted at 9 A.M. very hungry, for we had not eaten since lunch the day before. We needed food more than sleep, since the few hours of rest during the night were quite refreshing.
It was still hot when we started again at 4:30 P.M., but a pleasant northeast breeze tempered the oppressiveness. Herri asked me for a few yards of white cloth to make a turban, because the heat of the sun was affecting his head. I was glad to give it to him. Among the Tebus and Goran only sheikhs wear white.
I felt like walking that night and rode my camel less than usual. Since leaving Ouenat I had been walking six or seven hours a night, but that night I did nine. We made good progress until 3 A.M., when I suddenly felt or heard something rustle against my ankle-boot. I reached down and found grass. The desert had changed its aspect. The camels were hungry, for we set out from Ouenat with only two days’ food for them, trusting to the opportunities for grazing that we expected to find. So we let them eat as they went along instead of driving them at their best pace.
