When we had been two days on the road, I began to feel a little uneasy at the non-appearance of my camels; but thinking that maybe Gabou had purposely delayed starting so as to give them a stiff test in hard trotting, I comforted myself with this reflection, though as day after day passed, my anxiety became very real. On the night of April 7, we judged we must be close to Selima Wells, and sent out scouts to reconnoitre; they reached the wells, and returned saying that they could not find traces of any one having been there for some time. Our caravan reached the wells between nine and ten o’clock in the morning, and about midday, while we were occupied in watering the camels and preparing food, we heard a shot fired from the south-east, and shortly afterwards one of our scouts came in saying that he had been sighted by a party of about twenty men on camels; one of the men had fired at him at long range, and the whole party had then hurried off to the south.
A hurried conference was held; it was the general opinion that this party must be scouts of a larger one, and that they had gone off for the purpose of apprising their main body. Ismail decided upon pushing on at once. There was little time for me to consider what to do; to return to Wadi Halfa was out of the question, as Ismail could not spare any of his men as a |14| bodyguard; to wait at the wells was not to be thought of, and the only other alternative was to go on with the caravan. I told Elias to write out short notes for Hogal and Gabou, which I had intended to leave at the wells; but as Ismail pointed out, I should have to leave them conspicuously marked in some way to attract attention, and, if the dervishes got to the wells first, or if those we had seen returned with others, they would be the first to get the notes, which would endanger our caravan, and the little party I was so anxiously expecting. There was nothing for it but to go on and hope for the best. If the worst came to the worst, it meant only that my gum expedition was temporarily delayed, and that I should, after reaching Sheikh Saleh, take my first opportunity of getting north again.
There are five caravan routes running from Selima Wells—that furthest west leading to El Kiyeh, the next to El Agia, and the one in the centre leading to the Nile near Hannak, with a branch running to Wadi el Kab. Our objective being to meet Sheikh Saleh at Gebel Ain, we should have taken the route leading to El Agia, and this we had selected, because, as it was well out in the desert, there was little likelihood of our encountering any roving bands of dervish robbers. When we had been on the road a few hours, I ventured the opinion that we had taken the wrong route, and a halt was called while I examined the map I had with me, after which examination I felt certain that we were marching in the wrong direction. The guide Hassan was equally certain that we were on the El Agia road. A discussion ensued, which was ended by Hassan telling me, with what he intended to be withering sarcasm, “I never walked on paper” (meaning the map); “I have always walked on the desert. I am the guide, and I am responsible. The road you want us to go by leads to El Etroun (Natron district), |16| sixty marches distant; if we take your road and we all die of thirst in the desert, I should be held responsible for the loss of the lives, and your paper could not speak to defend me.” Hassan’s dramatic description of the scene of his being blamed by the Prophet for losing these valuable lives if he trusted to a “paper,” had more to do with his gaining his point than pure conviction as to whether we were on the right road or not. From El Agia, as Saleh’s men said, they knew every stone on the desert, but in this part they had to trust to Hassan.