An unreliable guide — Relief — Typical scenery — Game in
the “oueds” — A dreary scene — The effect of the sun — A
breakdown — Kidal — Reorganization — A veiled people — The
Iforas — Tuaregs and Iforas — Iforas as camel-masters — Adrar
— I abandon my bath — The value of dates — French couriers
— A solitary post — Relics of the Stone Age — Relics of
former nations.
OWING to the heat and the fine particles of sand constantly flying
in the air, Sidi Mahomed, the Arab guide, became much troubled with
his eyes, developing a kind of ophthalmia. I had then to depend
entirely on the Tuareg guide, and it was soon evident that he was
not very reliable. We were marching towards the wells of Tinderan,
and on the afternoon of the 30th of April we should have arrived
there. Time went on, and it began to get dark, while there were
still no signs of the wells. On being interrogated, the guide,
with customary vagueness, said it was only a short way off, and we
should soon be at Tinderan. There was no moon that night, and I soon
perceived the ground was becoming very rough; the camels began to
stumble into holes and over boulders, until it seemed hazardous to
proceed for fear that one would break his leg. It seemed to me that
the guide had lost his way. I decided, however, not to interfere
with him, as it is a principle in the desert not to harry the
guide with questions, since it only flurries him. One is perforce
dependent absolutely on one’s guide, so it is the best policy to
rely thoroughly on him and leave him alone if he seems puzzled.
As the stars became brighter in the heavens I noticed that we had
altered our course from east-north-east to south-east, and gradually
we began to turn still further south. There was then no doubt that
the Tuareg had lost himself. I halted the caravan, proceeding to
question him. He denied that he had lost the way, protesting that
we were quite close to Tinderan. However, it was palpable that he
must have missed his direction, so without further listening to
his protests I camped where we were for the night, sending him off
to find the right way, and telling him not to return till he had
so done. Anyhow, it was fairly evident that he did not understand
how to march by the stars, for we had turned nearly through an
angle of 180 degrees, and were now with our backs to the direction
in which I knew Tinderan must lie. Should he not succeed in soon
finding the wells the position threatened to become serious, for
we had nearly exhausted the supply of water on the camels. It was
two days’ march back to the last well, whither we must return
should the worst come to the worst, and the strictest economy with
our water would not make it suffice for that time. I resolved to
keep the water intact till to-morrow anyhow, and see what news the
dawn would bring. So that night we went to bed thirsty. Eventually
it was not till late the following afternoon that we arrived at
Tinderan, weary and parched. We had been nearly eight miles out of
the true direction, it appeared, the previous night. The general
sense of relief, and the men’s joy at the sight of the wells,
are not easily described. We had practically no water remaining
in the water-skins, and what there was had a disgusting stagnant
taste. The sun had been overpoweringly hot, for we had been forced
to march through the heat of the day, and the sense of mistrust
in our guide was universal. What feelings of relief and comfort
did not these wells conjure up! Tinderan meant water to drink,
a good rest for weary limbs, food and sleep, and for myself, also
the delights of a wash once more!
[Illustration: MY KITCHEN IN THE DESERT
In the foreground is my servant, Musa, cooking my breakfast. At this
spot we were so fortunate as to find some stunted mimosas, so that,
with the aid of a rug thrown over some branches, I was able to rig
up a little shelter against the blazing rays of the Saharan sun.]
To the ordinary observer, it is true, Tinderan was hardly an
attractive-looking place. It lay in the midst of typical Saharan
scenery. Wastes of yellowish white sand surrounded it on all sides.
Besides the wells there was, of course, nothing else at Tinderan,
for that was simply the name of the wells. There were some half-dozen
of them, consisting merely of holes excavated in the sand, and not
discernible until one actually walked up to them. But to the desert
traveller, tired and thirsty, the surroundings mattered little;
the chief point, and the only point, was that here was water and
plenty of it. For the time being all hardships are forgotten and
joy reigns supreme.
On our march to Tinderan we had finally left the “Oued Telemsi,”
the dried-up watercourse along which we had been travelling since
leaving the Niger, and were now on the northern confines of the
Kountah Arabs’ country. Just before quitting the Telemsi we
had crossed two other “oueds,” called Northern and Southern
Eguerrer respectively. These are big shallow valleys, and must at
one time have been two large streams which united south of Tinderan
to form the River Telemsi. I saw several herds of Loder’s gazelle
in these “oueds,” and shot three of them just before dusk. We
had not had any meat for some days, so they were a welcome addition
to our larder. It was not till the following day that I again saw
some White Oryx (_Oryx leucoryx_). These fine antelope are extremely
local in this part of the Sahara. I generally saw them in a locality
where there was rocky ground as well as sand. A favourite spot for
these animals would be a sandy “oued” with “cram-cram”
grass growing in its bed, and on each side barren, rocky hills.
They appear to care little for shade, feeding in the early morning
in the “oued” and retiring to the rocky, shadeless hills during
the heat of the day. They invariably seemed to be well-fed and in
good condition, and one cannot help marvelling at the sustenance
they seem to get out of such a poor-looking diet. The white oryx
is a dangerous animal to approach if wounded, for he can inflict
terrible wounds with his sharp, spear-like horns on anyone who is
so unwary as to come within reach of them.
On the 1st of May we passed a piece of desert rather different
from anything I had yet seen. For several miles there were clumps
of dead mimosa shrubs, the soil was sand, and the terrain here was
very flat. The appearance of the scene was most dreary; it seemed as
if this had once been a comparatively fertile spot for the Sahara,
when all of a sudden the blight of the desert must have descended
upon it, mercilessly killing every bit of living vegetation. The
guides informed me that there had been no rain there for five years,
hence the destruction of the mimosas. Although rain in the Sahara
is rare, still there are not many places which are not favoured
with a shower, or perhaps two, every year or every other year, and
it is marvellous how this infinitesimal quantity of moisture will
put new life into Saharan vegetation, making new plants spring up
in a very short time. It is fortunate that this is so, for otherwise
even the camel could not exist in the desert.
On the 3rd of May we saw in front of us a rocky barrier of
mountains, which seemed to block the horizon to the north. These
were the Mountains of Adrar, and we were approaching the Adrar
Plateau, upon which was situated the post of Kidal. All the way
from the Niger we had been gradually rising towards this plateau,
which forms a tableland at an elevation of about 2500 feet in the
south of the Central Sahara. The next two days were the hottest we
experienced. The way lay over burning granite rocks, rough boulders
obstructed our route at every step, while the sun beat down with
pitiless vigour on our heads. Path, of course, there was none. In
the desert such a thing as a path is unknown; each caravan seeks
its own road. Every guide has his own landmarks to help him, but
two caravans, both destined for the same well and starting from
the same place, might easily pass each other _en route_ without
being in view. The average temperature during those two days was
116 degrees in the shade; our throats were parched, our feet were
burnt, and the glare from the blazing sun was intolerable. Up to
this point I had not adopted sun-spectacles, but now I was forced
to do so. I had taken the precaution to bring three pairs with me,
and the relief to the straining eyes was inexpressible. The chief
objection to them is that they make one’s face perspire to an
uncomfortable degree, and when they are removed it is difficult to
see in the strong sunlight for some minutes.
Until now I had flattered myself that I was fairly well hardened to
the African sun, for I had travelled through the tropical heat, in
the hottest season, during the past three months, with my sleeves
rolled up to the elbow and knickers cut short at the knee. Now,
however, I found that my skin was as tender as a child’s against
the fierce rays of the Sahara sun. My face, arms, and knees got
terribly burnt and swollen. I suffered tortures every time I
touched them or bathed them. The skin came off, and I must have
looked a very peculiar object. Even the natives’ hard feet became
fearfully blistered and swollen by the burning heat of the rocks.
Raids on the water-skins during the march were frequently attempted,
and I had to give the N.C.O. of my escort the strictest orders
to keep the men from the water. If they had been allowed to drink
all they wished the water supply would soon have been exhausted,
and it is always a sound principle to arrive at a well with some
water in your water-skins, for it is never certain in the desert
that the wells will not be found dry.
Halting in the middle of the day was the time everyone disliked most,
for the heat of those rocks and the lack of any shade were truly
appalling. However, a halt was absolutely necessary for several hours
during the day in order to give the camels a rest, so I used to stop
at some “oued” where there was some parched-up “cram-cram”
for them to feed on. As it was, two of the camels fell down during
the march on the 4th, refusing to get up. They were exhausted
by the heat. I relieved them of their loads, leaving the guide,
Sidi Mahomed, to look after them, and bidding him follow as soon
as they had rested. Those two camels died before reaching Kidal,
and the only wonder was that we did not lose more.
A sandstorm was blowing when we arrived at Kidal on the 5th of May,
about 10 p.m. I shall not easily forget my sensation of joy at again
beholding a European’s face after the past twelve days in the
desert. What a pleasant spot Kidal seemed! Here there were actually
two houses, or huts to be more accurate, built of mud. Further,
there were about a dozen date palms surrounding the little post.
The spectacle of real trees and real green leaves once more was
most refreshing. Then, one need no longer stint oneself for water.
How I revelled in a bath that evening! The water at Kidal was
beautifully pure, not like some of the disgusting liquid we had
been obliged to drink on the way. Almost the strangest thing was
that I had been only twelve days on my journey. It seemed as if I
had spent a lifetime already in the Sahara, so new and varied were
many of the experiences I had undergone. The little hut allotted to
me was very hot, but the relief at being in the shade, and being
able to discard my helmet during the day, was great. Besides, it
was cooler at Kidal. The soil was sandy and those burning granite
rocks were farther away.
[Illustration: THE SERGEANT OF TIRAILLEURS IN CHARGE OF MY ESCORT,
AND MY TWO GUIDES TO KIDAL
Three distinct types are here depicted. On the left a white-bearded
Arab of the Kountah tribe, whose handsome face and picturesque garb
make him a fascinating figure. In the centre is the sergeant of
my escort, a stalwart Bambarra with the distinctive thick lips and
snub features of the negroid races. The third man is a Tuareg, one
of that curious tribe which wanders in the Central Sahara, shunning
contact with the rest of mankind to an extraordinary degree.]
I did not leave Kidal till the 8th of May. I had to reorganize my
caravan here. The officer in charge of the post had fortunately
been able to retain the services of a guide for me, and the same
man was willing to let me his camels if we could agree as to terms.
The day after my arrival I had an interview with Mohamed Ben Kaid
Kaddour, as the guide was called. He was an Arab trader who did
business between Insalah and the Adrar country. He had not intended
to return to Insalah till the cool season commenced, about September,
but owing to some urgent private affairs he had just been recalled
to the northern part of the desert. The man was a shrewd Arab,
about thirty years old, a keen trader, and with the reputation of
being a sure guide in the desert. The opportunity was a good one,
so I decided to take it at any cost, for, owing to the time of
year—it being the hottest part of the hot season—no caravans
were travelling, and I should be extremely unlikely to get another
guide to take me.
After a good deal of bargaining matters were settled. I hired four
baggage camels and one “mehari,” or riding-camel, from Mohamed,
who agreed to furnish one camel driver for the party and guide me
safely across the desert to Insalah for a sum amounting to about
twenty-three pounds. I naturally stipulated that he should not be
paid until the end of the journey. It seemed to me a good plan to
hire the camels from the man who would act as guide, for in this
way he had more interest in keeping them in good condition. It
was to his advantage to get them fit to Insalah, but certainly I
was rather in the hands of my guide should he prove unscrupulous.
If he wished to make away with me _en route_, and abscond with my
despatch box and baggage, it might be hard for me to prevent it,
and it would be difficult for the authorities to catch him and
punish him for his crime. However, I was determined to be very wary,
always sleeping with one eye open and my firearms close beside me.
The other member of the caravan was my servant Musa, while the
guide asked permission to bring four camel loads of merchandise
and a young camel he wished to sell at Insalah.
At Kidal I saw some of the finest camels I had yet seen; these
belonged to the detachment stationed at the post, and had been
bought from the Ifora Tuaregs. These people breed a very fine class
of “mehari,” their riding-camels being renowned for their power
and endurance throughout the Central and Western Sahara. The Iforas
are the Tuaregs who wander in the Adrar country, and it was at Kidal
that I first came into contact with this interesting race of nomads.
The chief peculiarity of these people is that they always wear
a veil over the lower portion of their faces, which conceals all
the features except the eyes, and sometimes the ears. This veil is
made of blue stuff, generally of the well-known “guinée.” It
is called a “litham.” The use of a “litham” is obvious to
anyone who has travelled in the desert, for it serves to prevent
the wearer from being choked by the clouds of sand which are ever
blowing about in the Sahara. Moreover, it prevents thirst to a
remarkable extent. It is a most essential article of kit for the
desert traveller, and I soon found myself obliged to adopt it. I
often used to think that my appearance in a civilized country
would have caused some astonishment and, probably, not a little
merriment. My face was so swathed in strange objects that very
little of it was visible. I think I might fairly have beaten a
motorist in the strange disguises on my features. My eyes were
hidden beneath huge blue sun-glasses, while the remainder of my
face was entirely obscured by the “litham,” which, in my case,
generally consisted of a handkerchief. I found the same objection
existed to the “litham” as to the glasses, but that was quite
a minor discomfort, and one very soon forgotten.
The Iforas share the usual dislike of the Tuareg to contact with
mankind, and with Europeans in particular. They possess an unenviable
reputation as first-class looters and highwaymen. A weakly guarded
caravan passing through certain parts of Adrar runs a very good
chance of being attacked and looted. But in this respect the Iforas
are by no means the worst offenders amongst desert tribes. They
are said to be plucky in war, but will avoid fighting when possible.
They are intensely jealous for their womenfolk, and are stated to
be ready to die to a man rather than allow their wives and female
relatives to be harmed. The Iforas have two distinct classes—the
Ihaggareen, who are the nobles and govern the various clans into
which the tribe is split, and the Imrads, or middle class. All
menial work is done by slaves, called “beylas.” These slaves
have been captured at various times from various negro tribes during
Tuareg incursions into the Niger country, or else when a caravan
has been plundered.
Iforas are armed with spears, swords, and shields. They dislike
a rifle, and seem to regard it with a strange mixture of contempt
and fear. The swords are of two kinds: one is a cutting sword worn
at the side, and the other, called a “tellak,” is about twelve
inches long, resembling a dagger, and is worn on a leather band on
the left forearm, just below the elbow.
The shields are about six feet high, made of bullock or sheep hide,
and are sometimes rather picturesquely painted with strange devices
on the middle of the front face.
Tuaregs live in encampments, their tents being made of a number of
goatskins sewn together. Or they may erect temporary shelters made
with bits of mimosa branches, over which is stretched a cloth.
It is extraordinary the number of people that one of the tiny
shelters will accommodate. A family of father, mother, and four
children will in some marvellous fashion find space in one about
fifteen feet long by ten feet wide, while the height of the structure
is not more than four feet.
Tuaregs are rather a handsome race, and the Iforas are not behind
their fellow-tribesmen in this respect. They are usually tall
and slimly built, but very wiry. They have well-cut features,
blue eyes, and a pale complexion. The language is guttural, not
bearing any resemblance to Arabic, which is spoken on the north,
or the Niger languages on the south. The origin of these people is
shrouded in mystery. Tradition says that one of the Tuareg tribes,
probably the Ouilliminden, who are nomads in the Sahara on the east
of the Ifora, came about the seventeenth century from the Erg-Iguidi,
a tract of desert in the north of the Sahara, under the leadership
of their chief, Kari Dena, in search of adventures. The date appears
to correspond with the time they conquered the Sonrhais and invaded
the Niger provinces near Timbuctu, but it is difficult to establish
the authenticity of this legend, for the people are extremely
reticent about themselves, and it is doubtful if they know much of
their past history. In any case, it seems probable that before they
became desert wanderers, they lived in the northern part of Africa,
and were probably conquered and expelled from their country by the
Arabs, being thus induced to seek a fresh home in the south. After
their stronghold, Timbuctu, was finally wrested from them, they
migrated more than ever to the desert, hence their poverty and
dislike for close acquaintanceship with mankind.
Iforas are wonderful camel-masters. They understand more about
these animals than anyone in the Southern Sahara. Besides, they
can identify a camel in a most accurate manner by observing his
tracks in the sand. I have known cases of a Tuareg, on observing
the tracks of several camels at a well, stating that such a one was
the track of such and such a man of his tribe, and that he had been
there three days before our arrival. On verification, all these
details proved to be exact. Iforas are not often at fault in the
matter of tracking by the marks of camels’ feet in the sand. They
will tell you, correct almost to a man, how many a certain caravan
numbered; and when it is recollected that camels usually follow
each other in single file, it will be understood that this is no
easy matter. Besides, the terrain is often hard, so that to the
casual observer there are no tracks whatever discernible.
[Illustration: MÉHARISTE CAMELS OUT AT THEIR PASTURAGE NEAR KIDAL
The vegetation in the illustration is typical of that found in the
Oueds of Eastern Adrar. It is strange how even these arid-looking
grasses can exist in the Sahara, but Adrar is fortunate in getting
several tornadoes annually and is consequently richer in vegetation
than other parts of this desert. In this pasturage there were some
seventy or eighty camels wandering in complete liberty, scattered
over some ten square miles resting and putting on flesh after some
arduous months’ marching this troop had recently performed in
the desert.]
The Iforas own large flocks of sheep and goats. Some of the former
are fine animals when the difficulties of grazing are taken into
consideration. These Tuaregs take great pride in their flocks,
and the principal trade between them and other tribes of the
Sahara consists in sheep. Their movements are entirely dictated
by the state of the grazing in the “oueds” for their camels
and sheep. Sometimes I have noticed a Tuareg encampment as much as
seven miles from the nearest well. The encampment is made here on
account of good grazing being available. The fact of having to go
seven miles to the well and seven miles back for his water has no
importance for the Ifora. He drinks little himself, while his sheep
are driven to the well every third day to water, and at the same
time water-skins are filled and brought into camp on camels. The
state of most wells in the Ifora country is for this reason often
disgusting. The flocks, when being watered, are allowed to foul
the wells, so that, for a couple of days after their visit, the
contents are almost undrinkable.
This country, which is really the Eastern Adrar, is generally
known as the Adrar of the Iforas, to differentiate between it and
Western Adrar, a country in south-west Mauretania, and Adrar Oasis
in the Northern Sahara. The word Adrar merely means mountain in
the language of the Tuareg.
The plateau of Adrar is about 200 miles long and seventy wide.
It consists generally of rocky hills running in parallel ranges from
north to south. In certain parts the granite rock has been split
up by the action of the heat, leaving isolated jagged crags which
stick up in fantastic shapes. The valleys between these hills usually
possess pasturage for camels and sheep, for Adrar of the Iforas is
on the whole a well-watered country; that is to say, it boasts of
periodical rains, which consist of some six or seven tornadoes in
the year. The Iforas for this reason are more fortunate than many
nomad tribes of the desert, who have to seek much farther afield
for a change in their grazing-lands. The valleys in which are found
the “oueds” are generally sandy bottomed, in sharp contrast to
the rest of the country, which is rocky. Roughly speaking, such
was the nature of the country through which I was going to march
for the first portion of the way to Insalah.
At Kidal I at last resigned myself to parting with my travelling
bath. It was a great wrench to have to discard this luxury, but I
had, by bitter experience, found out that it was not a practical
article in the Sahara. On the way from Gao I had only on two
occasions been able to indulge in the joys of a tub, owing to the
scarcity of water in most of the wells. Moreover, the bath was a
most cumbersome load on a camel, and more than once had it suffered
a severe fall, when some infuriated beast had managed to rid himself
of this troublesome piece of baggage by dint of repeatedly rubbing
against his companions, while kicking and wriggling at the same
time. The net result of all this was not only damage to the bath,
but probably a sore back for the animal. So I presented the bath
to my host as a slight return for his hospitality to me.
At Kidal I managed to buy a sackful of dates from an Arab
trader who was doing a little business with the soldiers of the
detachment. These dates were invaluable on the march. They are very
portable and nourishing, although hardly appetizing. Indeed, I ate
so many dates in the Sahara, and generally dates of the coarsest
quality, that I hate the sight of a date to this day. My dates were
packed together in a bag, crushed in a solid, consistent mass. They
were so hard that many required a hammer to break them. I found the
best plan, when there was not time to cook them, or no water, was to
simply suck one at a time. If I tried to bite one it might easily
break my teeth, so I gave up trying. In any case I was very glad
to be able to buy dates here, for my stock of provisions, except
the “couscous” and rice, was growing beautifully but rapidly
less. Of “couscous” and rice I had plenty, but I had not yet got
to the stage of being content with only these simple forms of food.
Before starting on the second stage of my desert journey I had
thoroughly to overhaul my pack-saddles and the gear appertaining
thereto. I had now gained some experience of the Sahara, and
knew better the parts of equipment that were most likely to get
strained. I also took the precaution to have a large reserve of
ropes, girths, and such-like articles. My water-carriers were nearly
all in bad need of repair, and this was a point requiring careful
attention. A good reserve of these water-skins was essential.
The French have now a courier who goes at stated times from Kidal to
Insalah and back. The next courier was to take word of my approach to
the Commandant at Insalah, so that he might expect my arrival about
the beginning or middle of June. This courier is a Tuareg, who has
been procured with some difficulty to carry out this service. He
travels alone, for it has been found that he is less likely to be
interfered with if he does so. His mount is a swift-trotting camel,
and in the dry season he has a spare mount as well. I was informed
that the mails were rarely looted, as, of course, there is nothing
of any value to a desert highwayman in a mail bag. His efforts would
be more likely to be directed to stealing the camel than the mails,
but one individual well mounted has a good chance of escaping in
such a case.
The mail man followed a different line of wells from my proposed
route, so I was unlikely to see him on the way.
On leaving Kidal I dare say my host pitied me at having such a long,
lonely journey in front of me. For my part I could not help pitying
him far more, for I was embarking on new and possibly stirring
experiences, while he, poor fellow, was all alone as far as Europeans
were concerned, tied down for two years of duty in one of the most
dreary of French military posts. He had his work to occupy him,
it is true, but how monotonous must continual service in a Saharan
post be, more especially when a man is the only representative of his
race within nearly 200 miles. Far away from kith and kin, living in
a region almost apart from what is known as “the world,” where
life is hard, food scarce and bad, and surrounded on all sides by
the barren wastes of the desert. His life was not without a large
element of danger, moreover; for a well-organized marauding band
might easily wipe out his small detachment, and the news would not
reach the Niger until the raiders had made good their escape. But
perhaps it was this element of danger which lent some excitement
to his life and made it more tolerable. I must freely confess that
he was a young man who enjoyed capital spirits, and was as cheerful
and versatile as is usual with his countrymen.
After leaving Kidal on the 8th of May, my route lay almost due north
for a considerable way. Wells were on the average fifty miles apart
on this stage, that is to say, through the Adrar of the Iforas;
but some of the wells had so much potash in them that the water
was quite undrinkable.
[Illustration: THE WELLS OF KIDAL
About every third day camels are brought to the wells to drink.
In the hottest season these animals can, if well trained, exist
eight to ten days without water, but they rapidly lose their powers
of endurance after the third or fourth day. The camel standing up,
on the left, has just arrived from a long desert trek; it will
be noticed how his ribs stand out. The camel squatting in the
foreground, on the other hand, has drunk his fill, as is, indeed,
indicated by his big barrel and general air of contentment.]
The southern portion of Adrar affords some interesting relics
of the Stone Age. The wells have probably been in existence for
many centuries, and at one or two places we found some curious
little stone implements, such as arrowheads, miniature axes,
etc. There seems to be no doubt that all this country must have
been inhabited at one period by a sedentary population, thus further
strengthening the theory that the Sahara was not always the barren
waste it now is. In the neighbourhood of Es-Souk, some eighty miles
north-west of Kidal, there are unmistakable evidences of much later
civilization. Ruins of buildings are there found in the sand. This
place is supposed to have been one of the northernmost parts of
the Sonrhay Empire, as late as the twelfth century. Mahomed told me
that he had on a previous occasion found stone implements near one
of the wells in Southern Adrar, but he had, of course, not taken
much interest in the discovery or pursued it any further.
In the country between the Niger and Southern Adrar one occasionally
observed tumuli, with remains of pottery, and I had been told,
although I had myself never seen any, that granite and porphyry
pestles and grindstones had been found, with similar evidences of
vanished villages.
It is easy to conjure up pictures of former nations inhabiting
prosperous townships in this portion of the Sahara in olden times,
when the conditions were probably so different from what obtain at
the present day. How strange it is to think that this vast stretch
of country should now be turned into an arid desert. Instead of a
nation dying out as it became effete, in this case it was the land
which, for some unknown causes, became so unproductive as to be a
country in which man could not settle for any length of time, and
he was therefore forced to withdraw to more promising lands. When
all the “oueds” flowed, as presumably they must at one time
have done, the Adrar must have been a well-watered land, as must
also the whole region between the Niger and the Ifora country. To
all intents and purposes the Sahara is now a dead world, and
although many theories have been started, and experiments tried,
for reclaiming small portions of it, it can hardly be said that,
so far, they have met with much success even in the circumscribed
limits in which they have been given the most exhaustive trials.
However, something new in science is always being done, and is it
not possible that one day this dead world may be made to live again;
that by some ingenious process water may be made to flow once more
in dried-up “oueds,” and that the country may be refertilized
and repopulated?