300 THE SECRET OF SAHARA: KUFARA 



merit and tense endui'ance, we were losing a friend! An 

 odd pain possessed me as we finally parted in fine, 

 whirling sand and a wind which blew his jerd wildly 

 about his face and when Yiisuf said complacently, 

 "The Sitt Khadija is happy. She will be in her own 

 country soon," I knew the desert had won after all. 

 Those who are initiated into her secrets are for ever 

 held in her thrall. I think my voice was rather wobbly 

 as I answered, "No, no, I am sad because I am leaving 

 the Senussi country behind!" So quick is Arab 

 sympathy, so responsive is their instinct, that Yusuf's 

 face reflected my woful expression. "^Nly heart was 

 touched," he confided to Amar. "I would have wept 

 with the Sitt Khadija because she Las many feelings." 



There was a strong north-west wind that day, but 

 it was behind us, so we rode slowly and placidly through 

 the distorted country of sand and shale that lies east 

 of Jaghabub. I do not know whether sportive giants 

 dig for treasure or young gods build play castles and 

 entrenchments in that desolate land, but on every side 

 rise fantastic shapes of wind-blown sand. Reddish layers 

 drip over polished white bases that look like chalk. 

 Ridge after ridge of storm-polished gherds shut one 

 into a maze of strange hillocks that give way occasionally 

 to welcome green of hatias. The retinue had shrunk to 

 three, Yusuf, Amar and a new guide, one Abu Beki' 

 Manfi, who looked exactly like the wicked Caliph in 

 Dulac's illustrations to the Arabian Nights, for he had 

 a huge beaked nose which, under an inmiense loosely 

 rolled turban, curved to meet his pointed beard and 

 nut-cracker jaw. His curious eyes were for ever asking 

 questions, but his dialect was ahiiost beyond my 

 comprehension. 



We proceeded very slowly because all the camels 

 were tired and the retinue had surreptitiously added to 



