ower could I find upon the ground.

The streams abound in petrifactions of vegetation, which would show that
the water cannot be very wholesome for drinking. A monster crab was
brought us out of a channel; my horse in drinking had been startled at
the sight of it.

There were traces of buildings about the place, such as foundations of
walls almost razed to the ground, and one broken tower.

But the prospect eastwards, including the peninsula, and the mountains
and huge crevasses of Moab, or southwards, including Sebbeh and the Salt
mountain, are magnificent beyond expression. We could not be sure that
Mount Hor was distinguishable. At a quarter past three, and under shade
of trees, the thermometer was at 86 degrees Fahrenheit.

After considerable repose and some feeding there, we prepared for the
remaining ascent, called by our people "The Ladder of _Terabeh_." This
was a very toilsome climbing of near two hours up a nearly perpendicular
cliff, by means of curves and zigzags turning away four or five yards.
Most of the way we were dismounted, but still the horses and camels were
greatly distressed by the effort of the ascent. At first the
camel-drivers sang to cheer their animals. This, however, dwindled into
occasional prolonged notes, which again were deteriorated into groans
instead of music.

It was a curious sight for us who were untroubled with the care of
camels, and consequently getting on faster than they, to look down upon
the wavy lines of moving creatures, and hear the echoes of their voices
from below.

Reached the summit at half-past four, and after an hour's progress upon
level ground, we halted for the night. Poor old Selameh fell down flat,
not so much from the effect of mere fatigue, as from having had his ankle
bitten by a spiteful camel in the morning, and then the long climbing in
addition.

This was to be our last night together, and we enjoyed to the utmost the
social gathering round the bivouac fire with our Arab companions, to
whom, after ten days association, to the exclusion of all the rest of the
world, we could not but feel something of temporary personal attachment.
There was Selameh, with his mended shoe and his bitten ankle, who had
been our officer and diplomatist, ready for fun or a row at any minute;
'Odeh the champion, called out upon emergencies; Khamees, the slave boy,
a general domestic, if this latter word may be allowed for a Bedawi Arab;
and Salem the merry-man, s