214 SIR VICTOR BROOKE CHAP. 



on the north, the north and south running gorges meet 

 at its crest, whilst its southern side falls steeply into the 

 longitudinal valley in little tiers of precipices, and it 

 was into this latter the ibex had disappeared. This 

 we found out too late, his fresh bed and deep foot- 

 prints showing where he had dashed away, doubtless on 

 seeing some of us mistaken lunatics going to our posts. 

 We went back to the camp, I very sad at heart, through 

 the great valley, and found lots of droppings and nearly 

 every plant cropped by ibex. On getting to the camp 

 at five, we found the water exhausted, and the horses had 

 not drunk all day in fact, had been twenty-four hours 

 without water. It was simply misery for all nothing 

 but tinned nastiness to eat and very little to drink. Just 

 as we were going to bed the camels turned up from El 

 Baba, so we went to bed more content, but I was heart- 

 sore for my ibex. 



Wednesday, 6th March. Woke to find a raging 

 Khamsin tempest, dust filling the air, and the barometer 

 falling fast. It was too bad. There was nothing for it, 

 so we were up at 4.30, and dressed as well as we could, 

 the tents threatening to be driven away every moment. 

 Whisky and water and mucky soup, full of sand, for 

 breakfast, and then we were off, Garstin and I stalking 

 together (for I had insisted that we had one day's 

 stalking any way), and Vetter and his friend Autrano 

 going together. We gave them the valley, best ground, 

 and we took the north side of the hills. Garstin and I 

 had tossed for first shot, he winning, but he abso- 

 lutely insisted on my taking it too good of him. 

 However, it was not a day for much aspirations about 

 shooting, our main object being to keep our feet; on the 

 tops it was impossible to stand, and we were literally 

 blown yards along before the gale. Seeing no work 

 could possibly be done near precipitous ground, we got 



