However, a wakeful watchful night passed uneventfully. It may have been that the camp was too well armed, or too alert; in any case, we saw no living soul again.[18]
And thereafter we spent some days among the dunes—perhaps the most beautiful and most mystical environment that one may find in the Sahara; and always the colours and shadows of morn and eve were infinite and superb.
Nevertheless, the influence of these gigantic scenes of sand sometimes affects the travel-stained imagination; particularly when there is no escape from constant sameness over a prolonged period. A good illustration of how it engrosses and depresses one’s thoughts, even in sleep, is contained in a dream of Glover’s.
“I dreamt, last night, that you had received a message from the French saying that your journey had all been a mistake, and that you could not continue across the Sahara. The message went on to say that they were very sorry about the disappointment to you, but if you cared to wait you could continue north next year. You answered, ‘All right, we will wait,’ and settled to camp among the awful sand. Then I clearly saw both of us sitting there through an eternity—waiting, always waiting. And as we sat more and more sand dust covered us!—until I saw quite six inches piled upon your shoulders and arms.
“And at last I seemed to rise up and scream—‘This is awful!’ We cannot wait here longer; the dust will rise and rise for ever!’”
So that in more ways than one, camp-fires in the Ergs hold mysterious dangers.
CHAPTER XII
FEATHERS, AND THE PLACES THEY FREQUENT
