The cold was intense, and our people
complained bitterly. More than once, indeed, the thermometer was down to
freezing-point whilst we were traversing the plateau; and one morning
the desert was covered with a shining frost.
Although we became accustomed to the desolate appearance of this
district by degrees, we counted eagerly the days and hours that brought
us nearer the confines of Fezzan. Every night's incidents were the same.
On we went, nodding drowsily on our camels, sometimes dropping off into
a sound sleep, variegated by a snatch of pleasant dreams. But these
indulgences are dangerous. I was more than once on the point of falling
off. By day, few objects of interest presented themselves: linnets and
finches fluttered here and there upon the rare bushes, whilst swallows
joined the caravan, and skimmed round and round for hours among the
camels, almost brushing the faces of the drivers. Lizards glanced and
snakes writhed across the path. We started three wadan or mouflon,
churlish animals, fond of such solitudes. As to the birds, our people
say they do not drink in winter, and in summer leave the Hamadah
altogether. Four-fifths of the surface were utterly barren. Little
mounds marked the graves of children, slaves who had perished on the way
from inner Africa. The mirage was common, but rarely pretty. Sometimes
ridges of low mountains seemed raised on the level plain, probably
reflected from the cliffs that edge the plateau.
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