And, always facing that friendly star, the farther my camels travelled toward it the nearer I came to the goal; until at long last great hope arose that my caravan would get through.
It was then May of the second year. The caravan had reached the Algerian Sahara and was riding hard for rail-head.
But how altered from the start was my little band and its possessions! It had been composed of thirty-six camels and fifteen natives at the commencement, in the spring of the previous year; now all the camels had gone, except Feri n’Gashi, the camel I rode. Awena, the last of the others, had fallen out on the 16th. Of the original natives only two remained: Ali, an Arab of Ghat, and Sakari, a Hausa of Kano. Lack of stamina, sickness, and failure in courage had claimed the rest at various stages of the journey. Only two died as the result of the undertaking.
When to me came hope of reaching the goal Sakari’s impression at the same moment was that he had come so far that he would never see home again.
During those latter stages it is not too much to say that Glover (the cinema operator) and I were bubbling over with happy anticipations. The most discussed subject, next to the thoughts of those who waited our coming, was our conjectures of the enjoyment we should have in eating real food again. That which appealed vastly to both of us was the prospect of pure white bread and butter—no doubt because we had lived so long in a state of constant sandy grittiness, and had almost forgotten the taste and the delicious purity of a fresh oven-loaf. Also, during this month, we had nothing left to eat other than rice and couscous.
“EVER HEADING INTO THE NORTH”
Shortage of food, that had been a grave problem in the past, no longer worried us, however, and gaily we laughed over the joyous thought that all those trials would soon be over. We recalled how, four months ago, the last of luxuries was down to a half-bottle of whisky and two bars of soap.
And so we plodded steadily over the last lap with big hearts, forcing the pace toward home over the still unchanging sand, despite an overpowering desire to sleep in the saddle which now beset us fitfully, partly because vitality was exhausted and partly because of the low altitude, which was now almost down to sea-level.
At last only two days and a night of serious travel lay ahead to Ouargla; thence four days to the rail-head at Touggourt.