but in high halls and in kings' palaces, because of the scourge which has come along this route from Mecca. Of those who fell on the desert, tens of thousands lie beneath the mounds which are scattered far and wide over the plain of Nukhl. Here they sleep, with no stone to record their names, or even to mark the spot — their only requiem the winds of the desert.
The winds of the desert! That sound is the most melancholy of all the voices of nature. It is not like the sound of the wind in a forest of pines, or on the shore where it mingles with the moaning of the sea — for there is life in the forest and in the sea, life in the swinging boughs and the dashing waves — but in the wind of the desert there is a hollow sound, for it comes over a world all silent and still, as over a world of the dead, and seems to be wailing like a lost spirit over innumerable graves.
But Nukhl had another interest to us, as the point in our journey where we had to make an entire change of men and camels for our further march. We were now to have an illustration of Bedaween customs. Here we entered the territory of another tribe, the Tayyahah, which claimed the sole right to levy tribute on travellers who passed through their country. We knew of this Arab usage, and for days had been looking forward to the change with the utmost regret. Ever since we left Suez we had had the same men; they had been with us in long and weary marches, and more docile, patient, and willing servants we could not desire, and we were very unwilling to part with such faithful companions. They too were equally reluctant to part from us, whom they had found kind and indulgent masters, and were willing to divide what they should receive with the new tribe if they might be permitted to accompany us. But the Bedaween of Nukhl were inexorable. They would allow our men to pass through their
