The evening had passed, and the light faded.

What had been difficult and tedious during the day now became most serious; we could not see the branches of hooked thorns that over-hung the broken path.

I rode in advance, my face and arms bleeding with countless scratches, while at each rip of a thorn I gave a warning shout--"Thorn!" for those behind, and a cry of "Hole!" for any deep rut that lay in the path.

It was fortunately moonlight; but the jungle was so thick that the narrow track was barely perceptible; thus both camels and donkeys ran against the trunks of trees, smashing the luggage and breaking all that could be broken.

Nevertheless the case was urgent; march we must at all hazards.
My heart sank whenever we cane to a deep ravine or hor; the warning cry of "halt" told those in the rear that once more the camels must be unloaded and the same fatiguing operation must be repeated.