We were tempted to halt here for the night, contenting ourselves with dry fare, but the sight of our thirsty animals panting beside us, their great eyes seeming to plead with us for water, moved our compassions, so we set forward once more, although the sun was already low in the west, and darkness comes without warning in these lands. Some of us went in advance, hoping to find some wady where little pools might still be left, or a spring under some green wooded hill. Separating, we searched the country on either side of the pass, taking what bearings were possible, so that we might not lose the caravan, which wound along painfully below. Hill after hill was scaled and valley after valley traversed, with ever the same result. The shadows were falling thick when at last we struck a well-beaten track, which we knew must lead to an Arab camp. The rest of our party we saw on a hilltop behind us. The mukaries with the baggage were a long way back. With no one to guide them, they were sure to wander in the night that gathered over us, the darkness deepened by great black clouds, that soon covered all the sky. As the cook rode a powerful mare, it was hinted that he might return and guide them past certain tempting openings. The poor man almost shivered himself out of his saddle, a picture of abject terror. There was nothing else for it, so I pushed forward my weary horse, marking the hilltops against the sky. Some distance along the valley I heard the music of the bells that hung tinkling round the necks of the baggage animals, and guided by this, by and by came upon the mukaries, moving cautiously for fear of ruts or holes in which the mules might stumble. There was room enough for anxiety, but no trace of it was seen in these fearless, happy-spirited children of the mountain—no anxiety save what was excited by the condition of a comrade who had fallen sick by the way. The kindness shown to the sick youth, by these strong-limbed but tender-hearted men, was most touching. They had an extra animal, which they rode by turns, to rest their feet a little during the journey. This day and succeeding days every man of them cheerfully gave up his “turn,” that their fevered companion might ride all the way. It is hardly doing them justice to say that they gave it up cheerfully: they never seemed to think of it at all. Just as they came forward it was found that the sick lad, in his weakness and weariness, had let something fall a good way back. The big-hearted fellow who had been walking beside him gave the others certain charges concerning him, and without even a look of reproach, dived away into the shadows to search for it. Giving the advancing party instructions as to the way, I stood to act as a landmark, to guide the gallant Mousa on his return. The Bludân men, reared in the bracing air of Anti-Libanus, are among the finest specimens of the Syrian people. Independent, manly, yet withal respectful, ever showing to advantage in difficulty or danger, their tender solicitude for their unfortunate comrade did more to win our hearts than all their more showy qualities.
Standing alone in the bottom of that thickly wooded vale, distant objects already faded from sight, the hilltops themselves hardly distinguishable against a sky that grew ever darker, flocks of vultures fighting for places in the branches of trees near by, apparently unused to fear in that solitude, I was not sorry to hear, at last, the footfall of the returning Mousa. As we started forward together, a bright flame leapt from the top of the highest hill before us. In the red glare we could almost see the figures of our friends as they piled on the fuel. The idea of the fire was excellent. The cook made the suggestion, and fell to work with frantic energy, tearing up roots, pulling down branches and heaping them up to burn, as if he hoped the flame might scorch the reproach of cowardice from his accusing conscience.
ARAB CAMP IN MT. GILEAD
Guided by the fire, we soon rejoined our companions on the hilltop. The doctor, meantime, had found an Arab encampment, and returned to lead us thither. His cheery voice rang out of the darkness, calling us to follow him. It was only the voice we could follow, as we never saw each other again until we gathered in the ruddy light of the Bedawy fires. We came long after sunset, committing thus unwillingly a breach of desert etiquette. But the Arabs easily understood our plight, and soon great draughts of delicious warm milk were provided. There is no better restorative than this, after a fatiguing and anxious day. But our excitements were not over yet. Great drops of rain slid down through the darkness, as if the clouds perspired supporting their own weight. Warning drops they were: we rushed up our tent before the shower came which they heralded. Under its roof we all took refuge until the mukaries had pitched a second tent; then we separated for the night, to make the best of circumstances—sleeping on chairs, or stretched on the canvas of our camp-beds, covered with anything that came to hand.
Silence as of death had fallen over the mountains; not a leaf stirred in the trees around us; sheep and oxen huddled closely together beside the hair houses of their masters; and the clouds hung dark and threatening, like birds of evil omen poised in the sky above us. The darkness overhead was cloven as by a flaming scimitar, and out rushed a stream of living fire, that spread for a moment over the hills like a curtain of gleaming light, to which every particular leaf responded with individual glitter. The thunder roared and bellowed through all that empty land, like the mingling of the tornado with the voice of many waters. The earth shook as if the very hills were being hurled headlong in divine displeasure. The rain fell in torrents, and beating on the taut canvas of our tents, served to increase the uproar. It is impossible to exaggerate the grandeur of the scene. Not till then could I fully appreciate the majestic realism of the famous old song of the thunderstorm, Psalm xxix. Surely it was after witnessing a storm like this that the Psalmist penned these marvellous descriptive verses:
The voice of the Lord is upon the waters:
The God of glory thundereth,
Even the Lord upon many waters.
The voice of the Lord is powerful;