3(36' 



THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE 



OFTEN THE BORDERING RIDGES WERE SO HIGH THAT EVEN THE TOPS OE THE PALMS 

 COULD NOT BE SEEN UNTIL WE REACHED THE VERY BRINK OF THE BASIN" 



The slightest puff of air suffices to start a little cloud of light sand curling from their 

 crests. After every violent windstorm the natives must toil for days to carry the sand out 

 of their gardens, "a veritable labor of Sisyphus" (see page 369). 



is so constantly in motion that even the 

 hardy desert grasses, with their long, 

 creeping rootstocks and ability to resist 

 burial, are unable to find a foothold. A 

 striking bit of evidence of the mobility 

 of the sand was an apparently fresh 

 wagon track, which ran sharp and dis- 

 tinct for several rods, then stopped ab- 

 ruptly at the base of a good-sized dune, 

 to reappear beyond it. 



As the day waned these giant sand- 

 hills assumed an unearthly beauty, the 

 dense shadows among them emphasiz- 

 ing their contours and contrasting most 

 vividly with the tawny yellow of their 



sunlit flanks. The surface of the sand 

 was delicately modeled with wind rip- 

 ples, so that at a little distance it looked 

 like watered silk. 



We reached El Oued, the capital of 

 the Souf, shortly after sunset. At the 

 little hotel, kept by a Marseillais, Euro- 

 pean guests are so few and far between 

 that, turning back three or four pages 

 of the register, I found the name of 

 Professor Massart, the Belgian botanist, 

 who had visited the region six years 

 before. 



My first excursion next day was to a 

 high point at the northeast corner of the 



