Saturday, May 19. We started at 5:15 A.M. and made our final halt at 8 P.M. There was a hot northeast wind from the hills, which dropped in the evening. We traveled over soft sand, very undulating, covered with dry grass. As we approached the hills the country became flatter with patches of small black stone.
The sun got hot quickly in the morning, and a hot wind was blowing, and so we camped at half-past nine in the shade of a tumtum tree. Its protection was welcome, and its bunches of red berries made an attractive pattern over our heads.
We started again at 3:30 in spite of the heat, with the hope of reaching the hills of Agah before dark. The camels had to be beaten in order to get them away from the shade of the tree and into the hot sun. By 7:30 we were at the foot of the hills, with the slim moon just coming up. Mohammed suddenly raised the alarm. He had found the fresh tracks of two men leading toward Merdi. A stranger in the desert is an occasion for vigilance until he proves to be not unfriendly. Rifles were quickly unslung; the oil-rags were stripped from their breeches, and cartridges shoved in. The men collected the camels which were scattered out grazing, and Mohammed, Herri, and Senussi Bu Hassan went forward to the valley to reconnoiter. After a careful search they came back to report that there were no tracks leading into the valley but that there were fresh tracks leading out of it. We made camp at the entrance, keeping clear of trees and vegetation in case any one approached in the night. We ate dinner rapidly and extinguished our camp-fire. The camels and girbas were put in the center of the camp, and the luggage arranged around its edge. Four sentries were posted for the night, and we went to bed. But sleep was difficult because of the oppressive heat and the suspense.
Early on the Sunday morning we got up and approached the valley cautiously. We came across fresh tracks of sheep and men and were convinced that some one had a camp in the valley. Mohammed and Herri went ahead, as the inhabitants of this district were Goran and no one else spoke their language. They soon returned with three Gorans. I met them, and we solemnly went through the ceremony of giving and receiving the aman. We advanced toward each other and lay whatever weapons we might be carrying, sword or rifle, on the ground. I addressed them in the time-honored phrases: “I swear by God that we are peaceful men, that we wish you no harm, and that we have no intention of robbing you.” One of them did the same in his turn, and we indulged in brief questions and answers on each side. Who are you? Whence do you come? Whither are you going? On what business? Then we shook hands formally, each took up his weapons, and both sides retired.
A WELL NEAR KUTTUM IN DARFUR. WOMEN WORKING
We tried to buy sheep from them, but they refused to sell. In a short time they went away and returned with three sheep which they offered as diafa, refusing to accept any money for them. I gave them etkias of blue cloth as a return courtesy, with which they were delighted. The camels were sent off to the well to drink and to bring back water for the camp, while the men busied themselves with preparations for the great feast of meat. In the afternoon I took photographs and in the evening made observations. The electric torch which I used in reading the theodolite first frightened the Goran boys and then delighted them.
The valley of Agah is very picturesque, a long narrow defile between high cliffs, with more vegetation and trees than we had seen thus far. Half-way down its length it divides, one branch leading southwestward to the well and the other southward toward the open desert. The well is similar to that at Erdi, but its water is badly fouled by sheep and camels. The valley is full of birds whose pleasant songs make one think one is at the aviary in the Zoo.
We were up while it was dark and the stars were still shining in the clear sky. The Goran came to say good-by. Arami and Hassan had declined to go further south and left us to return to Ouenat, with Arami’s camel. We wound our way down the eastern fork of the valley, its steep sides protecting us from the sun. On the way we sighted three gazelles, and some of the men gave chase, but the nimble animals climbed the hills and escaped. Hamid, the Zwayi, fired at one and missed, to the scornful delight of the others. Hamid, however, refused to admit complete failure.
“By God,” he stoutly maintained, “I hit it. I saw the blood spurt.”