The glare of barren plains and the heat of
the summer's sun were fearful. Bacheet had a slight coup de
soleil; my Tokrooris, whose woolly heads were shaved, and simply
covered with a thin skull-cap, suffered severely, as we marched
throughout the burning hours of the day. The Arabs were generally
very inhospitable, as this was the route frequented by all native
merchants, where strangers were of daily occurrence; but towards
evening we arrived at a village inhabited by a large body of
Fakeers, or priests. As we entered, we were met by the principal
Faky, who received us with marked attention, and with a charming
courtesy of manner that quite won our hearts; he expressed
himself as delighted at our arrival, hoped we were not fatigued
by the heat, and trusted that we would rest for a few minutes
before we departed to the enchanting village "just beyond those
trees," as he pointed to a clump of green nabbuk on the yellow
plain, about a mile distant; there, he assured us, we could
obtain all kinds of supplies, together with shade, and a lovely
view of the river. We were delighted with this very gentlemanly
Faky, and, saying adieu with regret, we hurried on to the
promised village "just beyond those trees.
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