_Friday, Dec. 23._--The men insisted that this day must be spent here in rest; that they needed it, and must have it. We said “All right,” and after cleaning up our guns and pistols, we went over to the beautiful island of Mokrat, where we were told that game abounded, to see what we could get for our table. We crossed in a crazy log boat that threatened every moment to go to the bottom. Here, after bagging game enough for a day or two, an accident happened. As I was running through some bushes I suddenly became lame, and thought that a serpent had bitten me; but it afterward proved to be a thorn driven into the ankle clear to the bone. Doctor said it was in the worst possible place, and did not dare to cut for it. But the pain soon became so great that it was unbearable, and the foot could not be touched to the ground. It nauseated me, too, and was altogether proving itself so much more than expected, that he determined to probe for it. Twice he attempted it, working half an hour or so each time and sinking the forceps over half an inch and all he dared, and finally, to ease the pain, he cut the nerve. My chief consolation is that I am not the first man who has had a “thorn in the flesh.”
_Saturday, Dec. 24._--We were up early. I was for starting, but the Doctor was afraid of inflammation in my ankle, and all things considered we determined to wait till noon; but the men were drunk, our guide especially, and we were not able to get off till 2 P.M. With a sling I managed my ankle quite comfortably. Soon after leaving Aboo-Hamed we passed a region where the ground was covered with most beautiful stones of many colors, red, green and black. When we had made about 10 or 12 miles we went into camp, as much to let the men get sober as anything. The spot we chose was a lovely one on the bank of the river, sheltered by a grove of palms. Christmas Eve on the Nile! Was there ever a more beautiful one? When the afterglow of a rich sunset had faded from the sky, the moon rose and looked down at us through the palm branches. We had the desert stretching away to the rear, and the winding river with its fringe of palms in front of us. We lay on the floor of our tent thinking of home and telling stories of the happy days of “auld lang syne” till we were warned that it was time to turn in. We are now in the region of crocodiles. We have seen one, and the guide to keep us from the water has told some most fearful stories. He has even tried to make us believe that a crocodile will catch and devour two camels at once. The name of our camping place is _Moushra Adehaish_.