THE ESCAPE FROM JEDABIA 53 



struggled to put up the tent, but we unrolled bedding, 

 put down ground-sheet, doled out provisions, fitted the 

 camp beds together ourselves. The Sudanese collected 

 brushwood, yawning violently and infinitely wearily. 

 We boiled tea and drank it sugarless, for the retinue had 

 the usual Arab passion for sugar. I looked at 'myself 

 once in a tiny hand-glass, and was thankful to put it 

 down, for I hardly recognised the begrimed and haggard 

 visage, yellow, sunburnt and lined, that peered out under 

 the heavy black handkerchief between the folds of the 

 barracan. A gale rose suddenly and nearly swept our 

 tent away, but we did not mind. We slept fitfully, 

 woke to cook rice on a brushwood fire and went to bed 

 about 6 P.M. with a thankfulness too deep for words. 

 Feather mattresses, frilled pillows, Chippendale or 

 Louis XV beds all have their charms, but I have never 

 been so grateful for any as I was that night for my 

 flea-bag and my air cushion. 



At 6 next morning Yusuf woke us with a cry of "El 

 Fagr," and after the usual prayers we set to work to 

 break camp. We informed the retinue that we intended 

 to reach Wadi Farig and its well that day and therefore 

 they must not count on a midday halt. Consequently 

 thej^ insisted on making a fire and cooking half our 

 week's rations straight away! We started at 8 a.m. and 

 continued a south-easterly-southerly course all day. 



Wadi Farig is only 60 kilometres from Jedabia, 

 but I imagine our first day we must have made a detour 

 in order to avoid the main route, for it was not till 

 2 o'clock on the second day that a mirage on the horizon, 

 a sheet of silver water bordered with purple mountains, 

 proclaimed the position of the wadi. "It is bayid, 

 bayid!" said Mohammed. "We cannot reach it before 

 sunset. Let us rest now!" This time, however, we 

 would not stop. We had shared our flasks of tea and our 



