During the first hour of our flight, the great mehari of
Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh carried us at a mad pace. We covered at least five
leagues. With fixed eyes, I guided the beast toward the _gour_ which
the Targa had pointed out, its ridge becoming higher and higher
against the paling sky.
The speed caused a little breeze to whistle in our ears. Great tufts
of _retem_, like fleshless skeletons, were tossed to right and left.