248 THE SECRET OF SAHARA: KUFARA 



wrist to elbow, and odd flat rings, big and thin as a 

 five-shilling piece. 



The day ended with a violent quarrel between 

 Mohammed and Abdullah, who was to return with the 

 soldiers to Jedabia, because the kaimakaan thought Sidi 

 Idris would punish him more severely than he had power 

 to do. The guide had told Mohammed he would beat 

 his nose flat, apparently an appalling insult, for the 

 uproar was prodigious and, in the middle of it, while 

 everyone was shouting at the top of their voices, our 

 trusted retainer wept like an infant! He was only 

 comforted by permission to buy a slave-girl he coveted. 

 "She has walked all the way from Darfur," he said, 

 "so she can walk to Jaghabub with us." But we 

 persuaded him to send her to Jalo later on. The caravan 

 was already overloaded without the ebony maiden's food 

 and water, though we were horribly tempted to take 

 her when we heard she was a good cook. As camel-men 

 were scarce at the moment in Kufara and fetched very 

 high prices, we had taken Mohammed's follower, Amar, 

 instead. He was a plucky and willing boy, a pupil from 

 the Jaghabub zawia, but, alas, no cook! The way he 

 ruined our treasured rice was little short of a tragedy. 



The evening of January 24 was spent in a pursuit 

 that was becoming habitual, that of sorting our rapidly 

 diminishing baggage to see what could be left behind. 

 This time the tent and camp beds had to go. There 

 would be no time to put up a tent on the Jaghabub 

 route. With our small and somewhat feeble retinue, 

 after walking twelve hours a day, probably against a 

 strong wind, by the time the camels were attended to 

 and the rice or flour cooked, one would have no energy 

 left to struggle with tent pegs. The most one could 

 hope for would be a flea-bag on the ground sheet in the 

 inadequate shelter of a zariba made of our food and 



