To make quite sure of our water supply, I sent Abd er Rahman back again to Mut with all the empty tanks, telling him to come out again to meet us as soon as possible.
Our supplies of all descriptions were running short. Our firewood was almost completely consumed, our last match had been struck and, as my flint and steel were lost, getting a light was a matter of considerable difficulty. A fire was not only a necessity for the men to cook their bread in, but the whole caravan—with the exception of Qway—were confirmed smokers, and if a native is deprived of his tobacco he becomes discontented at once.
Musa had solved the difficulty of getting a light the evening before by tearing a piece of rag from his cotton clothing, rubbing it in gunpowder, and then firing it from his gun. Qway rushed forward, picked it up still smouldering, put it into a handful of dried grass which he had brought with him, fanned it into a flame, and by that means succeeded in lighting a fire from the last of our fuel.
The weather was very hot in the middle of the day, and I was considerably amused at the expedients that the men adopted to mitigate their discomfort. In the morning and afternoon, during the hot hours, they all tried to walk as close as they could to the camels, so as to be in their shadows. But when it became nearly noon, and the sun was almost vertically overhead, they threw the tails of their long shirts over their heads, which not only acted to some extent as a protection to their necks and spines, but also, by deflecting the wind, caused a draught to blow down their backs.
The men, hungry and surly, tramped along in silence for two or three hours. Then Qway, who as usual was riding ahead of the caravan, suddenly made his camel kneel, sprang to the ground and sang out to the others to join him. I called out to know what was the matter.
ABD ER RAHMAN’S WIND SCOOP.
“Tahl,” he shouted, “Tahl ya farah. Allah akbar. Allah kerim. El hamdl’illah. Barr.” (“Come, come. Oh, joy! Allah is most great. Allah is merciful. Praise be to Allah. Manure!”)
We had reached an old camping ground of ours on one of our former trips, and the ground was plentifully strewn with the camel droppings, that in the great heat had become thoroughly desiccated, making excellent fuel.
Though it was still early in the day, we unloaded the camels, and Khalil started to make a plentiful supply of dough. With the help of the last handful of dried grass, Musa and his gun produced the necessary blaze, and in half an hour the bread was being baked over a hot fire of barr. In the evening we reached the bushes, and the fuel difficulty was solved.