288 THE SECRET OF SAHARA: KUFARA 



which had dropped to two miles an hour during the 

 last day or two. They had got very thin, with dull 

 eyes, but luckily there was a slight breeze to relieve 

 the intense heat which scorched us whenever we stopped 

 for grazing in a hollow. There were streaks of white 

 cloud in the pale sky and I imagined a breath of salt 

 flavoured the northern breeze, so that suddenly I was 

 desperately home-sick for the great free desert, lawless 

 and boundless, that we were leaving. Ahead were the 

 comfortable lands where the nomads camp in their 

 tattered "nuggas" and the Beduins pasture their herds, 

 the Gebel Akhbar and Cyrenaica, the welcome of the 

 tent-dwellers for all caravans who have travelled the 

 "big routes." 



Somewhere, "east of us," said the compass, "north 

 of us," said Suleiman, lay the last outpost of the wilder- 

 ness, if not the birthplace, at least the training ground 

 of Senussi-ism, but the lure of space dragged one's mind 

 back. The claw of the desert was tearing away the 

 peace that should lie at a journey's end. I do not think 



1 ever felt mentally flatter than when, just before 



2 A.M., we passed through the last little hollow where 

 green and gold were mixed and the mighty belt of 

 dunes lay behind us. In front was a most desolate 

 country of grey slate and streaks of white chalky sand 

 and pebbles, with here and there a dull madder gherd 

 or stony cliff. A faint thrill of interest was given to the 

 moment by the fact that none of the retinue knew where 

 we were, but as I was determined that east we should 

 now go, whatever they said, it did not much matter. 



Suleiman climbed one dune and said we were between 

 the hatias of Bu Alia and Bu Salama on the Jalo road. 

 Mohammed climbed another and said that both these 

 places were to the east of us. Yusuf lay down firmly 

 on a soft spot and said that all known country was still 



