338 FROM NORTH POLE TO EQUATOR. 



-camels. In a short time the baggage -train is overtaken, and we 

 shoot on ahead. A gazelle browses near our course and raises hopes 

 of welcome booty. With spirited movements the graceful creature 

 — image of the desert poet's fancy — skips and dances before its 

 pursuers; the gasping, sharply-spurred camels rush on with gigantic 

 •strides. The gazelle seems careless and allows near approach; the 

 riders act as if they would pass it, they rein in their beasts and ride 

 more moderately. But one slips from the saddle to the ground, stops 

 Ms beast for a moment, and from under cover of its body fires a 

 deadly shot. In a trice the leader has sprung from his saddle to make 

 sure of the fallen game; triumphantly he drags it along, fastens it 

 dexterously to his saddle, and on goes our cavalcade. 



Towards noon a halt is called. If there is a hollow near, it will 

 probably contain an umbrella-like mimosa, whose thin foliage will 

 afford some slight shade; but if the sandy plain stretches unbroken 

 •on all sides, all that can be done is to fix four lances in the sand 

 ■and stretch a blanket over them. Though the sand on which one 

 must lie is glowing, and the air one breathes is oppressive, languor 

 and weariness overpower even the natives, how much more the 

 Northerner. One seeks rest, but it comes not, and refreshment, but 

 ■one cannot enjoy it. Blinded by the overflowing light and the 

 tremulous atmosphere, we shut our eyes; but, tormented by scorch- 

 ing heat, and tortured by feverish thirst, we toss about sleepless. 

 The hours go by on leaden feet. 



The baggage-train winds slowly past and disappears in a vapour- 

 ous sea on whose heaving waves the camels seem to float. Still one 

 lingers, and continues to suflfer the same agonies. The sun has long 

 since passed the zenith, but his glowing beams are as fierce as ever. 

 It is not till late in the afternoon that a fresh start is made. And 

 again there is a rapid ride, whose swiftness seems almost to create 

 a cooling breeze of air. The baggage-camels come in sight again, 

 and are soon overtaken. The drivers stride behind them, singing; 

 one leads the song, and the rest join in at the end of each verse in 

 regular refrain. 



When one knows the toilsome labour of the camel-driver in the 

 desert, one wonders indeed to hear him singing. Before daybreak 



