Choosing the one that seems to take the most southerly
course, the trail continues hard and ridable for a few more miles, when
it becomes lost in a sea of shifting sand. Firmer ground is visible in
the distance ahead, and on it are seen the small black tents of a few
families of Eliautes. Considerable difficulty is experienced in getting
through the sand; but the width is not great, and the dim trail is
recovered on the southern side with the assistance of a chance
acquaintance.
This chance acquaintance is an Eliaute goat-herd, whom I unwittingly
scared nearly out of his senses, and whose gratitude at finding himself
confronting a kindly-disposed human being instead of some supernatural
agent of destruction, is very great indeed. He was slumbering at his
post, this gentle guardian of a herd of goats, stretched at full length
on the ground. Surveying his unconscious form for a moment and carried
away by the animal-like simplicity of his face, I finally shout "Hoi!"
Opening his eyes with a start and seeing a white-helmeted head surveying
him over the top of a weird, bristling object, the natural impulse of
this simple-hearted child of the desert is to seek safety in flight.
Recovering his head, however, upon hearing reassuring words, he adopts
the propitiatory course of rushing impulsively forward and kissing my
hand.
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