These Arabs were, as usual,
perfectly wild, and ignorant of everything that did not
immediately concern them. My compass had always been a source of
wonder to the natives, and I was asked whether by looking into it
I rould distinguish the "market days" of the different villages.
My own Tokrooris continually referred to me for information on
various topics, and, if I declined to reply, they invariably
begged me to examine my moondera (mirror), as they termed the
compass, and see what it would say. This country swarmed with
Arabs, and abounded in supplies: superb fat oxen were seven
dollars each; large fowls were a penny; and eggs were at the rate
of nine for a penny farthing.
We arrived at a large village, Sherrem, on May 11, having marched
118 miles in a straight line along the course of the Rahad. The
heat was extreme, but I had become so thoroughly accustomed to
the sun that I did not feel it so much as my men, whose heads
were covered with a thin cap of cotton (the tageea). My camel-men
had expected to find their families at a village that we had
passed about six miles from Sherrem, and they had been rejoicing
in anticipation, but on arrival we found it deserted,--"family
out of town;" the men were quite dejected; but upon arrival at
Sherrem they found all their people, who had migrated for water,
as the river was dry.
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