SHEIK EL MZEYEN, IN KATYA.
In the course of our ramble we met several Bedouins, who hailed us from a distance with a friendly Marhaba—"Welcome!" With one or two of them I exchanged a few words. Vives meanwhile shot a beautiful tufted cuckoo (Cuculus glandarius), a splendid bird, which habitually flies from the crown of one palm to that of another, and also a brace of shrikes, or butcher birds (Lanius minor), and some black and white chats (Saxicola).
After resting awhile under the shady palms, we resumed our journey towards noon, passing on the way the large well of Katya. This well is the great feature of the beautiful oasis. It is of large dimensions, lined with tiles, and provided with a gutter or trench to conduct the water drawn to the different watering-places. There we found a caravan from Damascus, with a number of horses and mules in the charge of several lank moukri, who were bound for Cairo. This herd, together with the tall drivers, with their fine swarthy features, and the background of gigantic palms, made up a strikingly harmonious and characteristic picture, the effect of which was greatly enhanced by the fragrant aroma of the desert, and the various colours it presented under the bright rays of the morning sun.
Having no more time to spare, we resumed our way across the sandy plain, and beautiful Katya soon vanished from our view like the fabric of a vision. Here and there the uniformity and loneliness of the desert scene were varied and enlivened by small groups of palms, beneath one of which, after a long march, we fixed our midday station. The breeze rustled gently through the crowns of the trees high over our heads, while we lay on the ground gazing dreamily towards the yellowish horizon clearly defined against the deep blue sky. All around reigned perfect stillness. Now and then a party of Bedouin women, laden with water-skins, passed us on the way to their tents, which probably were at some hours' distance.
After a brief rest we again went forward through the sandy tract, diversified only by occasional groups of palms, and after proceeding some distance reached a gentle slope, which brought us to the sandy hill of Bar Sat Man, half-way to Bir el Abd. From there the road alternately rises and descends over bare sand ridges, and then passes down a declivity overgrown with rushes and grass to Bir el Aafin—"the stinking well," which contains but little water, and that almost putrid. In the distance we saw several flocks of goats in the charge of Bedouins, who inhabit the whole tract of country right up to the sea. We also met a caravan with horses, asses, and mules, which some Kurds were taking to Cairo, the leader himself—a man advanced in years, wearing a green turban—riding at their head on a handsome bay.
After reaching a point from which we could see in the distance the Jebel el Magara, a mountain spur of soft outline, we descended into a hollow. To our right, between sandy ridges, lay Garif Bir el Abd, an extensive Melleha, overgrown with rushes and purslane, and containing a small quantity of rain-water. The action of this water on the soil produces an excellent salt, which the Bedouins collect after evaporation at the beginning of the summer. The smooth firm surface of the salty ground of the Melleha, with bushes of purslane and Caucalis on either side, is a welcome change to both man and beast after so much laborious marching through the bare sand. The purslane, when fresh and green, is much relished by camels. In the Melleha we saw two laden with straw, with their Bedouin keepers.
Proceeding on our way, we soon found ourselves again in deep sand, and a little further came to a small Sepha. The road then rises gently over another sandy ridge to the funnel-shaped hollow of Bir el Abd—"the negro's well," where we were to stay the night. The place had also been chosen by some Bedouins for their encampment. As it was not at all late when we arrived, I climbed the sandy hill near, in order to make a sketch of the chain of the Magara, then illuminated by the setting sun (see illustration); and we afterwards went on to one of the cottages of the telegraph watchmen, who came forward to give us a friendly welcome. These men are Arabs, and live there with their families. They are provided with a small store of wire and a few insulators to enable them to keep the telegraph in working order. They are placed at intervals all along the line to Syria, the first station being the one I mentioned at Katya, each man having a separate section to superintend. This arrangement is absolutely necessary in consequence of the damage occasioned by the violent winds which sometimes sweep over the desert. At Bir el Abd there are two men, each with a separate house, built of tiles, and a flat roof of the stalks of palm leaves. The lonesome and uneventful life of these men seems strange enough when one thinks of the important news constantly flashing over their heads, for the uninterrupted transmission of which they are chiefly responsible. We conversed with them for some little time, and gathered that they would be well contented with their lot but for their anxiety on account of the frequent danger to which their dwellings are exposed from the strong, sand-bearing wind, called Hampsin. Little indeed is requisite to satisfy the frugal and pious Arab. Bidding them farewell, we returned to the tents and retired to rest soon after our meal.