Our arrival at Kuttum at this particular moment had seemed to the inhabitants there an especially auspicious one, for we came with the first rain of the season.
We stopped there for two days, entertained generously by the moawins in the absence of the inspector, Mr. Arkell, who was at El Fasher.
One afternoon we attended a soccer match between two teams of soldiers. It was played with energy if not with finesse. At times a player, striving to give the ball an especially vigorous kick, would miss it and send his Sudanese slipper shooting high into the air. The camaraderie between officers and men, playing this not exactly gentle game together, was interesting to see.
Dinner that night with Riad Effendi and Nasr El Din Effendi, the moawins, was the first meal I had eaten in a house since leaving Kufra. My hosts gave me Egyptian newspapers to read, the first I had seen in nearly six months.
We left Kuttum at six o’clock on the morning of June 17, cheered by the generous hospitality we had enjoyed and the friendly send-off our friends gave us. The two days’ journey to El Fasher was a joy-ride. We all felt the thrill and exhilaration of getting in touch with the world again.
But as I went to bed on the eighteenth I realized with a stab of regret that this was my last day in the real desert. I thought how I should miss my men and my camels, the desolateness and the beauty, the solitude and the companionship; in two words, the desert and its life. I thanked God for His guidance across this vast expanse of pathless sand and found myself adding a prayer, half wistfully, that I might come back to it again.
I had given orders for an early start the next morning. In their eagerness my men somewhat exaggerated my idea of “early,” but I was excited myself and did not mind getting under way at half-past two.
Three hours’ march from El Fasher we camped to make preparations for entering the place. We all shaved and put on our best clothes. Mr. Dupuis had sent a supply of white cloth to Kuttum for us, and my men were able to appear once more in decent raiment. They crowded around my remnant of a mirror to see how they looked. Rifles were cleaned, and the luggage, which was in a very shabby state, was tidied as much as possible. I wished that I might be able to do something for the camels as well, which were thin and dejected-looking. But rest and attention to their sore backs were what they needed, and we had no time or facilities for giving them that. Nevertheless they too seemed to be infected with the spirit of eagerness felt by all of us and walked forward briskly. Abdullahi and Zerwali got into their silks, and the caravan moved gaily toward its destination.
As we reached the outskirts of El Fasher, cheers of rejoicing rose throughout the caravan. A cavalcade of men in khaki was coming toward us. I put spurs to Baraka, and he responded willingly. He saw the horses before us, pricked his ears forward, and dashed toward them.
