142 THE SECRET OF SAHARA: KUFARA 



too deep for words! An hour or two later life had 

 become normal again and the deepening water brought 

 us only the idea of a hearty meal and a bath in the biggest 

 receptacle in the canteen. 



I wonder how many readers will understand the tale 

 of those three days, because being lost in Europe means 

 merely an appeal to a map or a passer-by, but in Libya 

 there is often no well for several hundred miles, and, 

 perchance, two caravans a year or none at all! A few, 

 just a very few, will comprehend: quiet men with 

 tired, keen eyes — an Italian after whom a Tripolitanian 

 "gebel" is named, half a dozen Frenchmen scattered 

 over the great white desert south of Insalah, any 

 Australian who has been bushed without water and cer- 

 tainly one or two Englishmen in strange, sunburned 

 corners of our ruthless Empire! 



We camped near the largest clump of palms within 

 sight of the blessed well, and all afternoon I lay on my 

 camp bed with my "zemzimaya" beside me, drinking 

 every few minutes and when I could not drink any more 

 I would shake it now and then to hear the delicious 

 clutter of the water inside. In spite of all this joy we 

 were not really out of the wood yet, for the "hatia" 

 contained practically no forage. The camels were all 

 feeble after their long journey and the fast at the end 

 of it. They had to be driven here and there, from small 

 bush to smaller tuft. It was a laborious business for 

 our tired men and I had to leave my water-bottle once 

 or twice to see how matters were progressing. Abdullah 

 and Abdul Hafiz were very anxious that night, for the 

 camels would not drink properly, so we tore up some 

 straw mats, soaked them, and gave them to the beasts. 

 I wanted to try them with rice, but Abdul Hafiz said they 

 would die if they ate it. 



Our guide had recovered some of his calm when he 



