Koudaire. The road—for such the tread of the caravans may properly be called in this part—follows out the full north-and-south extent of Biskra, and almost immediately after leaving the last palm of the oasis enters upon that vast expanse of sand which, with the little green that belongs to it, constitutes the southern panorama. Being limited in time, we did not avail ourselves of the facilities of travel which the caravans afford—nor, in fact, did we feel disposed in a first effort to submit to the disarticulating motion of the dromedary—but arranged for a small cabriolet and two teams of horses, to carry us so far as this improved form of conveyance would permit. To insure a speedy journey, I had ordered one trio of horses to proceed in advance to Chegga, some thirty miles distant, there to await our coming on the following day. The morrow, however, was not to be as we had planned, and here again we took in a new lesson in physical geography. At the evening meal at Biskra information came to us that the relay of horses which had been ordered to our advance post had returned, not having been able to make the passage of the Djedi, the main waterway of southern Algeria. The course of this stream, when it exists at all, is directed southeastward into the depression of the Chott Melghigh, where its waters add still further to the accumulation of salt, which now lies some fifty to sixty feet below the surface of the Mediterranean. Ordinarily it offers no impediment to a passage, but now—and in the dry season—it had suddenly expanded to the dimensions of a lake, burying the surrounding country for miles beyond its legitimate banks. This was strange news, for who would have suspected a journey into the Sahara to be interfered with by an obstacle of this kind at this season of the year? The overflow of the Djedi was the result of a mountain storm which had preceded by three or four days, and only now had the waters expanded to their full volume. The Arabs had vainly attempted to force our horses across, and what they can not accomplish in this direction might safely be left untried; but we were informed that there would be a great abaissement of the waters in the next twenty-four hours, and that the relay would successfully pass in that time. Complacently, even though regretfully, we acceded to this forced delay, but we remained not a little suspicious as to the promised lowering of the waters. Pending the making of new arrangements occasional flashes of lightning broke through the western sky, and the raindrops pattered heavily on the great palm tufts that reared their heads over the garden court of our hotel. It was showering, and pleasant interludes were given over to sprinkling of hail. At another time, as students of geographical text-books and of special guides, we should have been surprised by the conditions as they presented themselves to us, but we had already been
