d we reach a
village. There Gulam Hussein makes ready a chicken and some eggs, and
then I lie down in a hut and sleep as I have never slept before.

[Illustration: PLATE VI. TEBBES.

The tree in the foreground is a huge tamarisk.]

THE OASIS OF TEBBES

Any one who has not travelled himself for weeks together through the
desert can scarcely conceive what it is to come at length to an oasis.
An oasis is to the desert wanderer what a peaceful island with its
sheltered anchorage is to mariners. Oases are like stars in the dark
vault of heaven, like moments of happiness and prosperity in a man's
life. If you had roamed for two months in the wilderness, like myself
and my Persians, you would be able to understand our feelings when we at
last saw the date-palms of Tebbes beckoning to us in the distance (see
map, p. 73).

A lofty minaret rises above the little town, which is surrounded by a
wall (Plate VI.). Within are old buildings, mosques, and a fort with
towers. Outside the town are tilled fields and palm groves.

Spring had come when we pitched our tents on a meadow in the shade of
thick dark-green palms. There was a rustle and pleasant whisper among
the hard fronds when the spring storms swept over the country. We were
tired of the everlasting dull yellow tint of the desert and were
delighted with the fresh verdure. Outside my tent purled a brook of fine
cool water, all the more agreeable after the intense drought of the
desert. A nightingale sang in the crown of the palm above my tent. He
plays an important part in Persian poetry under the name of _bulbul_.

If you were in some mysterious manner transferred to Tebbes, you would
on the very first evening wonder what was the curious serenade which you
heard from the desert. If you sat at the fall of day reading at the door
of your tent, you would look up from your book and listen. You would
have an uneasy feeling and be uncomfortable at being alone in the tent.
But after the same serenade had been repeated every evening as regular
as the sunset, you would become accustomed to it, and at length trouble
yourself no more about it.

It is only the jackals singing their evening song. The word "jackal" is
Persian, and the jackal is allied to the dog, the wolf, and the fox. He
is a beast of prey and seeks his food at night. He is not large, is
yellowish-grey in colour, has pointed ears and small, keen eyes, and
holds his tail erect, not hanging down like the wolf's. No