140 THE SECRET OF SAHARA: KUFARA 



We could not understand the apathy of the soldiers, 

 who were dejectedly rolling pebbles down the slope. 

 "Surely there is water there," I exclaimed impatiently. 

 "Wallahi! But that Abdullah does not know!" said 

 Farraj. "He says only that it is not the Zeighen 

 country." As I ran down the dune the camels literally 

 rushed past me to the patch of green. But they did not 

 eat. Apparently the great feathery bushes were not 

 fodder, and the only other things among the mounds 

 were a couple of skeletons to which the hooves and chest 

 pads still clung. "This place is El Atash — the thirst," 

 said Abdullah suddenly. "There is an old well here, but 

 its water will kill you! It is salt and bad." 



At the time we were obliged to i ely on his statement, 

 but since then I have discovered that he was entirely 

 mistaken. The water at El Atash is brackish, but quite 

 wholesome and the well can be dug out at any time. 

 It is only filled up with sand because travellers never 

 come there unless they have lost their way and are driven 

 to the disused well by thirst — El Atash! There was 

 plenty of brushwood, so we built enormous fires to cheer 

 ourselves up, but we could cook nothing without water. 

 The blacks ate macaroni dry and the Arabs tried flour, 

 though we offered them our tinned meats. The soldiers 

 had a cupful of water each, but the Beduins had none, 

 so we had to share our last hoarded bottle with them. 

 We dared not eat our meat ration because of the salt, so 

 we sucked malted milk tablets and eagerly drank the 

 water from some tinned carrots which were cool and 

 damp. Then we tore up the baggage saddles to give the 

 straw stuffing to the camels, for we thought we could 

 manage one more day's march by riding. 



The morning of January 3 was misty. Ripples of 

 white fog blurred the landscape, while we silently loaded 

 the camels, using blankets,, tents, anything soft as pads 



