At this time of year, however balmy the air and bright the sunshine at midday, one must always be prepared for a sudden and extreme change after sunset.

The Plain of Deybid was covered with snow at least two feet deep, the temperature must have stood at very few degrees above zero, and yet, not five hours before, we were perspiring in our shirt-sleeves.
"Mashallah!" exclaims Gerome next morning, shading his eyes and looking across the dazzling white expanse.

"Are we, then, never to finish with this accursed snow ?" By midday, however, we are out of it, and, as we subsequently discover, for the last time.
We had up till now been singularly fortunate as regards accidents, or rather evil results from them.

To-day, however, luck deserted us, for a few miles out of Deybid my right leg became so swollen that I could scarcely sit on my horse.

The pain was acute, the sensation that of having been bitten by some poisonous insect.