Made a good march to-day—nearly ten miles, pitching our camp about two miles short of the foothills which surround our mountain, which can now be seen looming big in the distance. We lunched to-day close to another old Roman station,[5] a large square hole about two hundred feet across and perhaps thirty-one feet deep. It evidently, once upon a time, contained water, as there are still the ruins of an old cistern surrounding it, in which the water was stored. The Wadi here branches off into two, one leads away eastward towards the Red Sea, the other still takes us on towards our destination. We now come to a few scattered mimosa bushes and dried up thistles—in fact, our camp to-day is surrounded by little greeny-brown shrubs, so we get plenty of firewood. Came upon gazelle tracks to-day, and at about 3 P.M. the keen eyes of my camel driver espied three of those pretty creatures scampering away in the distance. Dined on bread and sardines to-night, washed down by milkless tea. Saw two crows and a hawk to-day. I wonder what they find to eat and drink.
Wadi Medisa,
January 11th, 1891.
Started as usual about 8.30 A.M., and in about an hour entered the foothills. The Wadi now becomes narrower and improves in appearance, being decorated with two or three different kinds of scrub, some of which are really quite green. The valley is swarming with locusts, which are preyed upon by great numbers of hungry hawks and a few crows. We also saw two kinds of butterflies—the common English painted lady, and a small white one. Saw more gazelle to-day; they are very shy. These low mountains are of black granite and look like gigantic cinderheaps. The midday sun is “powerful” hot, and one longs for a little shade. We made a large, cheery camp fire this evening, and I sat and wondered what you were all of you doing at home— probably enjoying a good dinner. It is deadly still here; nothing to break the stillness of the night but the munching of the camels as they chew the cud. There is a planet rises at about 2 A.M., which is so bright that it casts a shadow like the moon. I suppose it is Jupiter, or perhaps it is the star Sirius.
IN THE MEDISA RAVINE.
Medisa,
January 12th, 1891.
Still winding our way up the Wadi; the mountains getting higher and steeper as we go on. Spied a most beautiful gazelle at about 10 o’clock, feeding on the scrub at the entrance to a ravine; not the common Dorcas gazelle, but quite a different sort. The Arabs called it a white gazelle, and said it was rare. I had a good look through my glass at it. It was nearly all white, with a few black markings on it, and lyre-shaped horns. It had evidently seen our caravan and was slowly making for the mountains. I made hot haste in pursuit, and after a long run got on its spoor. It had evidently heard me coming, as my boots made such a scrunching in the cindery ground, for when I came to the place where I expected to see it, it had decamped. I followed at a run on its tracks, and on reaching the top of a rocky rise I saw it standing, about five hundred yards away, on the far side of a ravine. It was no use following, so I turned back to the Wadi, meeting my camel-driver half way coming to see if I was lost. At midday the Wadi opened out into a large valley bounded on the north by the high mountains, at the foot of which we unloaded the thirsty camels, and started off to look for the long-hoped-for water, which our Bedouin told us was about half an hour’s climb up a gorge in the mountains. We found it as he said, two rocky pools, an upper and a lower, snugly hidden away in a deep cañon between two gloomy precipices. What a treat it was to see the camels quenching their thirst. It is a wonder how they ever managed to clamber up such a ravine, all a cascade of huge boulders and water-worn rocks. To-morrow the camels return for Powney, so we shall be alone for eleven days at least, during which time I hope to shoot an ibex and explore the mountains. We are 1700 feet above Kenneh by aneroid, and the night seems warmer than in the desert.
Medisa,