Identifier: tafiletnarrative00harr (find matches)
Title: Tafilet; the narrative of a journey of exploration in the Atlas mountains and the oases of the north-west Sahara
Year: 1895 (1890s)
Authors: Harris, Walter, 1866-1933
Subjects:
Publisher: London, W. Blackwood and sons
Contributing Library: Mugar Memorial Library, Boston University
Digitizing Sponsor: Boston University

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crosses by a weary track over thebrow of a range of black hills, descending again intothe wide open valley beyond near the immense forti-fied hsar of Ul Turug, the principal stronghold of theAlt Atta tribe of Berbers. It had been a shorter march than usual, and thoughnearly some thirty miles had been accomplished, wewere able to rest under the shade of some trees neara small stream before entering the hsar, which wedid not desire to do until dusk, so as to run lessrisk of discovery; for we knew well that so nearhad we now^ come to Tafilet that the place waslikely to contain a large number of Arab tribes-men from the Sultans camp, to some of whom Imight be known. We feasted that afternoon, for we had dates inplenty, and our Berber who accompanied us fetched 204 DADS TO UL TURUG. US a few grains of green tea and a little sugar fromthe hsar, with a kettle to brew it in and a tiny glassto drink it out of, and we made merry in the shadeof the tree, enjoying our rest and the pleasant cool-
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Ul Tttriig. ness that precedes the bitter cold of the winter nightsin the Sahara. Our journey was nearly accomplishednow : this one night in Ul Turug, a long march onthe morrow, and we would sleep on the soil of Tafilet, ACTUAL SUFFERINGS. 205 if not actually in the Sultans camp—and all ourweary adventures would be over. But there was yet another reason that made medesire to push on, and rejoice that the terminationof our journey was so near. The bitter cold at night,want of food and clothing at all times, the scorchingrays of the sun by day, and the long marches madebarefoot over the hot sand, had sorely taxed mystrength, and I already felt in my throat the suresigns of a coming illness, with which I had a coupleof years previously lain long prostrate. Already, toswallow had become an exertion attended with pain,and I knew well what to expect. Yet I could notallow my spirits to sink, ill and weary though I felt,for there was so little now between me and success,and retreat was out

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