152 
A FORCED MARCH. 
[chap. IV. 
hooked thorns of the mimosa—the salt, rice, and coffee 
bags all sprang leaks, and small streams of these im¬ 
portant stores issued from the rents, which the men 
attempted to repair by stuffing dirty rags into the 
holes. These thorns were shaped like fish-hooks, thus 
it appeared that the perishable baggage must soon 
become an utter wreck, as the great strength and 
weight of the camels bore all before them, and some¬ 
times tore the branches from the trees, the thorns 
becoming fixed -in the leather bags. Meanwhile 
the donkeys walked along in comfort, being so 
short that they and their loads were beiow the 
branches. 
I dreaded the approach of night. We were now 
at the foot of a range of high rocky hills, from which 
the torrents during the rainy season had torn countless 
ravines in their passage through the lower ground; 
we w r ere marching parallel to the range at the very 
base, thus we met every ravine at right angles. Down 
tumbled a camel; and away rolled his load of bags, 
pots, pans, boxes, &c. into the bottom of a ravine in a 
confused ruin.—Halt! . . and the camel had to be 
raised and helped up the opposite bank, while the late 
avalanche of luggage was carried piecemeal after him 
to be again adjusted. To avoid a similar catastrophe 
the remaining three camels had to be unloaded, and 
