THE END OF THE JOURNEY 307 



immense sheepskin testifying to very gracious fore- 

 thought. Beneficent Khaki was beside me and, behind 

 me, a swiftly broken camp, the still-glowing ashes of the 

 fire and then a line of dark figures on the slender hejin 

 of the Camel Corps. It seemed so small a thing now, 

 the distance that lay before us, and even the long trail 

 behind us was suddenly of no account, for we talked of 

 world wars, of nations still in the melting-pot. How 

 eagerly I asked for news! Governments had fallen, a 

 new republic had sprung into existence, a famous general 

 had vanished with a great army! Long before I had 

 filled the gap those desert months had made in newspaper 

 knowledge, we had overtaken the hamla and Beneficent 

 Khaki was looking out for convenient shelter. "The lee- 

 side of a gherd, I think," he said firmly. "That big 

 fellow over there will do," and he wheeled his tall, white 

 beast sharply under the hill. 



So swiftly the camp was made ! I felt ashamed of our 

 clumsy loading, our lumbering halts, when I saw the ease 

 with which each tall hejin barraked in its own place in 

 the double line. "What a good thing it is to belong to 

 such a Government," said Yusuf enviously. "What fine 

 camels and what a good turn-out!" There was no 

 grumbling at making a zariba that night. A meek retinue 

 bestirred themselves mightily to little effect, but Benefi- 

 cent Khaki took charge. Marvellously soon, it seemed, 

 Hassanein was tucked into a wondrous flea-bag, complete 

 with sheets, a real pillow propped up his shoulder, a 

 thoroughly wind-proof zariba shut out northern blasts, a 

 fire blazed cheerfully before us and, as I tugged my own 

 roll of bedding nearer its happy crackling, a voice said 

 reproachfully: "You mustn't do that! Do remember 

 that you've got lots of people to do it for you 

 now!" I smiled, for I had almost forgotten the ways 

 of England. 



