A DELUGE IN THE HILLS. 175 



three hours' ride we got to the hills, and then commenced 

 a tedious climb over bare steep rocks, with apparently 

 little foothold. 



But our unshod little horses are wonderful ! They 

 never put a foot wrong. My pony climbed like a monkey, 

 and it was all I could do to keep from slipping over his 

 tail. The saddle shifted back several times, and had to 

 be taken off and readjusted. 



When the top was gained, we came on a fairly flat 

 plain, and, following a good bridle path, reached Pail late 

 in the evening. We found the camels already arrived and 

 one of the tents up. This was lucky, for threatening 

 clouds have been banking up for the last two or three 

 days, and just after dark a drizzle set in, which ended in 

 a perfect deluge of rain. 



Tuesday. — The rain coming down in torrents ! Wet 

 weather is, to say the least, unpleasant in a little hill 

 tent. The thin canvas soaks with water like a sponge, 

 and though it does not actually drip inside, if anything 

 is left leaning against the sides, or you touch the top 

 with your head, a perfect stream of water trickles down. 

 The sticky loam outside is ankle-deep in mud ; and, until 

 a ditch was dug round the tents, little puddles formed 

 within, and threatened a universal inundation. 31 v white 

 umbrella is our only protection going from one tent to 

 another. We are actually in the clouds. Dense masses 



