THE GREAT ADVENTURE 9 



How could a mere king confer honour on the man whom 

 Allah himself had distinguished above all others living? 

 As we remounted the old man kissed my hand with 

 tender eyes, murmuring, "Inshallah ma temut ilia 

 Islam," and we galloped away amidst the wild "Ulla- 

 la-een" of the women and children. 



Ghemines to Zuetina meant 120 kilometres in a 

 camion over a very bad sandy track, but that night I 

 slept in a tent for the first time for six months. There 

 was a wonderful starry sky with a full moon, and a 

 Senussi sheikh rode into see us on a splendid grey horse 

 with a scarlet saddle. The high pommels back and front 

 and the wide stirrups were of silver, and the purple- 

 tasselled bridle was heavily embossed with the same 

 metal. Saj^ed Mohammed Hilal es Senussi is a cousin 

 of Sidi Idris and a brother of the Sayed Alimed es Sherif 

 who fled to Turkey at the end of the War. A kindly, 

 cheerful personage, he apparently had cut adrift from 

 the stern rules of his order and found charm in a semi- 

 European life. His language was so full of rhetorical 

 flowers that I found it difficult to understand, but he 

 lent me an excellent horse for the journey to Jedabia. 

 He also requested me to deliver to his cousin, Sayed 

 Rida, a poetic epistle which began, "Oh freshness of 

 mv eves, may Allah bless vour morning with peace and 



joy-"' 



The sand dunes of Zuetina gave way to a flat, colour- 

 less waste tufted with grey brushwood. As we turned 

 our horses' heads inland tiny jerboas scuttered into their 

 holes at our approach, and occasionally a great hawk 

 wheeled above our heads. Otherwise there was no sign 

 of life save one soHtary horseman in white jerd on a 

 white horse and a boy sitting on a pile of stones playing 

 an odd little tune on a wooden flute. Our grey Arab 

 mounts were tired when at last we mounted a low rise 



