The column—­numbering 1,604 officers and men and 1,624 camels and other beasts of burden—­started from Kohi at 3 P.M. on the 23rd of January, having sent on a small advanced party to the wells of Gedid twelve hours before.  The country through which their route lay was of barren and miserable aspect.  They had embarked on a sandy ocean with waves of thorny scrub and withered grass.  From the occasional rocky ridges, which allowed a more extended view, this sterile jungle could be seen stretching indefinitely on all sides.  Ten miles from the river all vestiges of animal life disappeared.  The land was a desert; not the open desert of the Northern Soudan, but one vast unprofitable thicket, whose interlacing thorn bushes, unable to yield the slightest nourishment to living creatures, could yet obstruct their path.

Through this the straggling column, headed in the daylight by the red Egyptian flag and at night by a lantern on a pole, wound its weary way, the advanced guard cutting a path with axes and marking the track with strips of calico, the rearguard driving on the laggard camels and picking up the numerous loads which were cast.  Three long marches brought them on the 25th to Gedid.  The first detachment had already arrived and had opened up the wells.  None gave much water; all emitted a foul stench, and one was occupied by a poisonous serpent eight feet long—­the sole inhabitant.  The camels were sent to drink at the pool seven miles away, and it was hoped that some of the water-skins could be refilled; but, after all, the green slime was thought unfit for human consumption, and they had to come back empty.

The march was resumed on the 26th.  The trees were now larger; the scrub became a forest; the sandy soil changed to a dark red colour; but otherwise the character of the country was unaltered.  The column rested at Abu Rokba.  A few starving inhabitants who occupied the huts pointed out the grave of the Khalifa’s father and the little straw house in which Abdullah was wont to pray during his visits.  Lately, they said, he had retired from Aigaila to Shirkela, but even from this latter place he had made frequent pilgrimages.

At the end of the next march, which was made by day, the guides, whose memories had been refreshed by flogging, discovered a large pool of good water, and all drank deeply in thankful joy.  A small but strong zeriba was built near this precious pool, and the reserve food and a few sick men were left with a small garrison under an Egyptian officer.  The column resumed their journey.  On the 29th they reached Aigaila, and here, with feelings of astonishment scarcely less than Robinson Crusoe experienced at seeing the footprint in the sand, they came upon the Khalifa’s abandoned camp.  A wide space had been cleared of bush, and the trees, stripped of their smaller branches, presented an uncanny appearance.  Beyond stood the encampment—­a great multitude of yellow spear-grass dwellings, perfectly