On the north bank—where the Sahara lies—there was more sand, more desolation, but of a different aspect.
In the distance, very far away, shone out great fires of grass kindled by the Moors, with columns of smoke rising straight up in the still air to an incredible height. On the horizon, chains of hills showed up, intensely red, like burning coals, resembling, amid these columns of smoke, an unlimited succession of furnaces.
And there, where there was nothing but arid ground and scorching sand, a perpetual mirage produced the semblance of great lakes, wherein the whole conflagration was reflected and reversed. Little wisps of quivering vapour, such as rise from a furnace, wove above all this a shifting web. The delusive landscapes shimmered and vibrated in the intense heat, and then could be seen changing shape and dissolving like visions. The eyes were dazzled and wearied by the sight of them.
From time to time on this bank appeared groups of men of pure white race—wild-looking and bronzed indeed, but with features of regular beauty, and with long curling hair, which gave them a look of Biblical prophets. They went bare-headed under that terrible sun, arrayed in flowing robes of dark blue. These were Moors of the tribe of Braknas or Tzarzas, bandits to a man, plunderers, robbers of caravans—the most lawless of all the tribes of Africa.
XIII
The east wind, which is like the mighty respiration of the Sahara, had sprung up, gaining strength by degrees as the distance from the sea increased.
This parching wind, hot like a blast from a forge, now blew across the desert. It covered all things with a fine sandy dust, and brought with it the burning thirst of Bled-el-Ateuch. The awnings that sheltered the spahis had to be continually watered by a negro, whose hosepipe traced rapid arabesques which disappeared as quickly as they were made, evaporating almost immediately in the parched atmosphere.
And now the ship was approaching Podor, one of the largest towns on the river, and the Sahara bank began to show signs of life.
This was the entrance to the country of the Douaïch, shepherds grown rich through cattle raids upon the negro territory.
These Moors used to swim their long caravans across the Senegal, driving before them the stolen cattle. Presently camps came into view, pitched upon the never-ending plain. The camelskin tents, stretched between wooden stakes, resembled huge bats’ wings spread out upon the sand; they formed weird patterns of an intense black in the midst of a country that was of a uniform, unvarying yellow. Everywhere there were somewhat increased signs of animation, of activity and life.