. The gateway to the Sahara; observations and experiences in Tripoli. rdecreasing our lead. We were approaching theturn, and had almost imperceptibly opened up ahundred yards of daylight between us. Halt! echoed over the sand as a hillock shutus from their view. *Ar-r-rah! yelled Mu-raiche as he dug the corners of his steel Arabianstirrups into his horses side. We gave the ani-mals full rein, swerved around the second turn,and dashed down the ravine. And it was here that the hardest riding mustbe done. A portion of the gully was exposed tothe highest part of the trail. And I was not oversangui
. The gateway to the Sahara; observations and experiences in Tripoli. rdecreasing our lead. We were approaching theturn, and had almost imperceptibly opened up ahundred yards of daylight between us. Halt! echoed over the sand as a hillock shutus from their view. *Ar-r-rah! yelled Mu-raiche as he dug the corners of his steel Arabianstirrups into his horses side. We gave the ani-mals full rein, swerved around the second turn,and dashed down the ravine. And it was here that the hardest riding mustbe done. A portion of the gully was exposed tothe highest part of the trail. And I was not oversanguine that the Turks might not fire upon us,either by reason of their excitement or deliber-ately through a too rigid interpretation of theiroflScers orders. This stretch was cleared none too soon, for aswe disappeared behind the wall of the ravine,the red fezes of the Turks silhouetted over adistant sand-hill against the sky. Not until we reached a point a mile awaywhere the trail shelved on to a coast route did weslacken speed. Here, deep parallel and inter- [ 276 ]. o abe A DESERT EPISODE lacing camel paths were worn into the hard-packed surface by centuries of caravan paths followed over clayey cliffs, literallythe edge of the great Desert, which seemed hereto pause before it emptied itself into the sea. We soon caught up to the outfit. Not farahead of us three mounted zabtie, a sort of ruralconstabulary who patrol the routes in the vicinityof the coast towns, were drawn up across thetrail awaiting our approach. The sergeant, soMuraiche informed me, was a nephew of SidiHassan, the rightful successor to the throne ofthe deposed Arab house of Karamali. A satis-factory reply to their questions, and we werepermitted to continue on our way. The zabtie would soon meet the two hurryingsoldiers, who might enroll them to apprehend usor to carry in the letter. So, as we passed thesalt chotts of Malaha, I left word for the outfit tofollow, and we set out at a steady canter al
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