came to a beautiful spot for a camp. As soon as we were off the camels, the Doctor took shelter under a large bush till the baggage train should come up. It always seemed to move very slowly when we were waiting impatiently for it. As soon as the tents were pitched, he lay down on his cot with an expression of utter weariness. He was very hot, and could take only a glass of lemonade to cool the fever that seemed to be burning in his veins. When dinner was served, he took a little soup, and went directly to bed. I covered him up, and tried to perform the part of nurse as well as I could, yet all the while feeling most painfully my utter helplessness.
That night I was in great anxiety: for the bare possibility of an illness on the desert was enough to awaken the most serious apprehensions. Had I been the sick one, my companion was an experienced and skilful physician, and would know what to do. He too could speak Arabic, and could give directions to our men. I had just as much knowledge of medicine as of Arabic — that is to say, I knew nothing of either — while the dragoman and cook were as ignorant as the Bedaween themselves. The only possible hope of relief would be to send to Gaza, which was four days' march. Four days there and four days back — eight days — that would seem like an eternity while waiting on the desert. In that time all our supplies of food would be exhausted, so that we should be in danger of dying by starvation, if we did not by fever. We were in a spot where we could not get a drop of water for ourselves or our camels. One shudders to think what might happen in such a time! But thanks to the sick man's skilful treatment of himself, the night passed with no increase of fever.
The next morning we did not strike our tents at sunrise, and yet somehow that hour always gave me a touch of
