I was not got above a mile into the sands, when I began to reflect on the folly of the undertaking. I was going into the desert among a band of savages, whose only trade was robbery and murder, where, in all probability, I should be as ill treated as the man I was attempting to save. But, seeing a crowd of people about half a mile before me, and thinking they might be at that time murdering that poor, honest, and simple fellow, all consideration of my own safety for the time vanished.
Upon my coming near them, six or eight of them surrounded me on horseback, and began to gabble in their own language. I was not very fond of my situation. It would have cost them nothing to have thrust a lance through my back, and taken the horse away; and, after stripping me, to have buried me in a hillock of sand, if they were so kind as give themselves that last trouble. However, I picked up courage, and putting on the best appearance I could, said to them steadily, without trepidation, "What men are these before?" The answer, after some pause, was, they are men; and they looked very queerly, as if they meant to ask each other, What sort of a spark is this? "Are those before us Ababdé, said I; are they from Shekh Ammer?" One of them nodded, and grunted sullenly, rather than said "Aye, Ababdé from Shekh Ammer." "Then Salam Alicum! said I, we are brethren. How does the Nimmer? Who commands you here? Where is Ibrahim?
At the mention of Nimmer, and Ibrahim, their countenance changed, not to any thing sweeter or gentler than before, but to a look of great surprise. They had not returned my salutation, peace be between us; but one of them asked
