As we got out of the town, and our little company stretched out in single file, I observed that we had an addition to our party in a mounted guard. It is a significant token of the utter absence of protection in this country under the rule of the Sultan, that a traveller cannot go thirty miles from Jerusalem, to the Dead Sea or the Jordan, without an armed escort. Parties may venture unattended, but they do it at their own risk. The Bedaween, who occupy these hills and valleys, consider it as their "stamping-ground," and that they have a right to levy toll on travellers. It is a thing perfectly understood, and every party pays a certain sum — a kind of blackmail — to the sheikh of the tribe, for which he guarantees its safety. Without it, his own retainers would be the first to rob the unprotected traveller. Understanding so well from our past experience the law of the desert, we were well pleased to see a fine athletic Arab, well mounted and well armed, ride to the front, and thus assume to be the "body-guard" of our party. He was mounted on a light, active pony, and had slung on his back a double-barrelled gun that looked as though it might do execution in case of necessity.
The country we entered soon after leaving Bethlehem, furnished the most perfect contrast to the terraced slopes, covered with figtrees and vines, which gave such beauty to the City of David. It was a succession of brown, barren hills, to which the only relief was in the myriads of wild flowers, and in occasional glimpses of the waters of the Dead Sea, which appeared far below us in the basin of the mountains. In its general aspect the region was almost as desolate as the desert itself, and indeed its claim to that character is indicated in the name it bears, for we are now entering the Wilderness of Judea — the scene of the ministry of John the Baptist.
After three or four hours of this rough riding, of
