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Walter Dittrich
Martin Reuter

Classical and
Quantum
Dynamics
From Classical Paths to Path Integrals
6th Edition
Classical and Quantum Dynamics
Walter Dittrich • Martin Reuter

Classical and Quantum

Dynamics
From Classical Paths to Path Integrals

Sixth Edition

123
Walter Dittrich Martin Reuter
Institute of Theoretical Physics Institute of Physics
University of TRubingen Johannes Gutenberg University
TRubingen, Germany Mainz, Germany

ISBN 978-3-030-36785-5 ISBN 978-3-030-36786-2 (eBook)

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-36786-2

1st edition, 2nd edition, 3rd edition: © Springer-Verlag Berlin Heidelberg 1992, 1994, 2001
4th edition, 5th edition: © Springer International Publishing AG 2016, 2017
© Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020
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Preface to the Sixth Edition

In the sixth edition of this book, we have added some new chapters. Chapter 39
continues and brings to a close the explicit calculations of the propagation function
of a charged spin- 21 particle in a constant electromagnetic field. But now we adopt
Fock’s and Schwinger’s proper-time method instead of applying the Van Vleck
determinant as done in Chap. 38. This, in fact, signals the beginning of Schwinger’s
withdrawal from operator quantum field theory and his return to c-numbers. As it
turned out, Schwinger’s article in Phys. Rev. of 1951 is one of the most-cited papers
in the physics literature. We will describe his approach in great detail, considering
only those parts of his paper that are relevant to the calculations contained in our
following chapters. The emphasis lies on c-number field theory rather than on
operators and their multiplication at the same space–time point because of their
highly complicated high-energy behavior. As a final application of Schwinger’s
proper-time calculation, we derive in Chap. 40 the explicit expression for the one-
loop effective Lagrangian in QED. This is the most elegant way to reproduce
the famous Heisenberg-Euler Lagrangian (1936) and sets the stage for all future
effective quantum field theories.
As an introduction to low-energy pion-rho-nucleon chiral physics, in Chaps. 41
and 42 we rely on the geometrical as well as the dynamical approach. The former
is based on differential geometry as developed by Gauss, Riemann, Einstein, and
Weyl, where chiral symmetry is realized in a curved isospin space. The latter
approach was favored by the late Schwinger. Our contribution is a reassessment
of Schwinger’s Brandeis lecture notes [63] of 1969; the details we present here
have—so far as we know—never been published. We devote our final Chap. 43 to
Riemann’s groundbreaking ideas contained in his Habilitation lecture (1854), where
he touches on geometrical and physical spaces and consequences for physics and
philosophy.

v
vi Preface to the Sixth Edition

Finally, at the close of this enterprise, we wish to express our profound thanks to
Ms. Ute Heuser of Springer-Verlag, who was kind enough to guide us over the years
in preparing the various editions of this book for publication.

Tübingen, Germany Walter Dittrich

Mainz, Germany Martin Reuter
January 2020
Preface to the First Edition

This volume is the result of the authors’ lectures and seminars given at Tübin-
gen University and elsewhere. It represents a summary of our learning process
in nonlinear Hamiltonian dynamics and path integral methods in nonrelativistic
quantum mechanics. While large parts of the book are based on standard material,
readers will find numerous worked examples which can rarely be found in the
published literature. In fact, toward the end they will find themselves in the midst of
modern topological methods which so far have not made their way into the textbook
literature.
One of the authors’ (W.D.) interest in the subject was inspired by Prof. D. Judd
(UC Berkeley), whose lectures on nonlinear dynamics familiarized him with
Lichtenberg and Lieberman’s monograph, Regular and Stochastic Motion (Springer,
1983). For people working in plasma or accelerator physics, the chapter on nonlinear
physics should contain some familiar material. Another influential author has been
Prof. J. Schwinger (UCLA); the knowledgeable reader will not be surprised to
discover our appreciation of Schwinger’s Action Principle in the introductory
chapters. However, the major portion of the book is based on Feynman’s path
integral approach, which seems to be the proper language for handling topological
aspects in quantum physics.
Our thanks go to Ginny Dittrich for masterly transforming a long and complex
manuscript into a readable monograph.

Tübingen, Germany Walter Dittrich

Hannover, Germany Martin Reuter
January 1992

vii
Contents

1 Introduction .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1
2 The Action Principles in Mechanics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3
3 The Action Principle in Classical Electrodynamics .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17
4 Application of the Action Principles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23
5 Jacobi Fields, Conjugate Points . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 45
6 Canonical Transformations.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 59
7 The Hamilton–Jacobi Equation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 75
8 Action-Angle Variables . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 93
9 The Adiabatic Invariance of the Action Variables . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 119
10 Time-Independent Canonical Perturbation Theory . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 133
11 Canonical Perturbation Theory with Several Degrees of Freedom . . . 141
12 Canonical Adiabatic Theory . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 157
13 Removal of Resonances . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 165
14 Superconvergent Perturbation Theory, KAM Theorem
(Introduction) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 175
15 Poincaré Surface of Sections, Mappings . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 185
16 The KAM Theorem . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 197
17 Fundamental Principles of Quantum Mechanics . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 205
18 Functional Derivative Approach .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 211
19 Examples for Calculating Path Integrals . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 223
20 Direct Evaluation of Path Integrals.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 247

ix
x Contents

21 Linear Oscillator with Time-Dependent Frequency .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 259

22 Propagators for Particles in an External Magnetic Field . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 275
23 Simple Applications of Propagator Functions . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 281
24 The WKB Approximation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 299
25 Computing the Trace . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 311
26 Partition Function for the Harmonic Oscillator . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 317
27 Introduction to Homotopy Theory . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 325
28 Classical Chern–Simons Mechanics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 331
29 Semiclassical Quantization . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 345
30 The “Maslov Anomaly” for the Harmonic Oscillator . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 353
31 Maslov Anomaly and the Morse Index Theorem . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 363
32 Berry’s Phase.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 371
33 Classical Geometric Phases: Foucault and Euler . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 389
34 Berry Phase and Parametric Harmonic Oscillator .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 409
35 Topological Phases in Planar Electrodynamics . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 425
36 Path Integral Formulation of Quantum Electrodynamics . . . . . . . . . . . . . 435
37 Particle in Harmonic E-Field E.t/ D E sin !0 t;
Schwinger–Fock Proper-Time Method . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 445
38 The Usefulness of Lie Brackets: From Classical and
Quantum Mechanics to Quantum Electrodynamics .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 459
39 Green’s Function of a Spin- 12 Particle in a Constant
External Magnetic Field . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 485
40 One-Loop Effective Lagrangian in QED . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 499
41 On Riemann’s Ideas on Space and Schwinger’s Treatment
of Low-Energy Pion-Nucleon Physics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 507
42 The Non-Abelian Vector Gauge Particle . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 539
43 Riemann’s Result and Consequences for Physics and Philosophy . . . . 553

Bibliography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 557
Index . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 561
Chapter 1
Introduction

The subject of this monograph is classical and quantum dynamics. We are fully
aware that this combination is somewhat unusual, for history has taught us convinc-
ingly that these two subjects are founded on totally different concepts; a smooth
transition between them has so far never been made and probably never will.
An approach to quantum mechanics in purely classical terms is doomed to
failure; this fact was well known to the founders of quantum mechanics. Never-
theless, to this very day people are still trying to rescue as much as possible of
the description of classical systems when depicting the atomic world. However,
the currently accepted viewpoint is that in describing fundamental properties in
quantum mechanics, we are merely borrowing names from classical physics. In
writing this book we have made no attempt to contradict this point of view. But
in the light of modern topological methods we have tried to bring a little twist to the
standard approach that treats classical and quantum physics as disjoint subjects.
The formulation of both classical and quantum mechanics can be based on the
principle of stationary action. Schwinger has advanced this principle into a powerful
working scheme which encompasses almost every situation in the classical and
quantum worlds. Our treatment will give a modest impression of the wide range
of applicability of Schwinger’s action principle.
We then proceed to rediscover the importance of such familiar subjects as Jacobi
fields, action angle variables, adiabatic invariants, etc. in the light of current research
on classical Hamiltonian dynamics. It is here that we recognize the important role
that canonical perturbation theory played before the advent of modern quantum
mechanics.
Meanwhile, classical mechanics has been given fresh impetus through new
developments in perturbation theory, offering a new look at old problems in
nonlinear mechanics like, e.g., the stability of the solar system. Here the KAM
theorem proved that weakly disturbed integrable systems will remain on invariant
surfaces (tori) for most initial conditions and do not leave the tori to end up in chaotic
motion.

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W. Dittrich, M. Reuter, Classical and Quantum Dynamics,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-36786-2_1
2 1 Introduction

At this stage we point to the fundamental role that adiabatic invariants played
prior to canonical quantization of complementary dynamical variables. We are
reminded of torus quantization, which assigns each adiabatic invariant an integer
multiple of Planck’s constant. All these semiclassical quantization procedures have
much in common with Feynman’s path integral or, rather, approximations thereof.
Indeed, Feynman’s path integral methods are ideally suited to follow a quantum
mechanical system—if certain restrictions are enforced—into its classical realm.
Consequently it is one of our main goals to apply Feynman’s path integral and
other geometrical methods to uncover the mystery of the zero point energy (Maslov
anomaly) of the quantum harmonic oscillator.
That quantum and classical mechanics are, in fact, disjoint physical worlds was
clear from the very beginning. Present-day experience is no exception; it is rather
embarrassing to find out that an important geometric phase in a cyclic adiabatic
quantal process has been overlooked since the dawn of quantum mechanics. This
so-called Berry phase signals that in nonrelativistic as well as relativistic quantum
theory, geometrical methods play an eminent role.
The appearance of topology in quantum mechanics is probably the most impor-
tant new development to occur in recent years. A large portion of this text is
therefore devoted to the geometric structure of topologically nontrivial physical
systems. Berry phases, Maslov indices, Chern–Simons terms and various other
topological quantities have clearly demonstrated that quantum mechanics is not,
as of yet, a closed book.
Chapter 2
The Action Principles in Mechanics

We begin this chapter with the definition of the action functional as time integral
over the Lagrangian L.qi .t/; qP i .t/I t/ of a dynamical system:
Z t2
S fŒqi .t/I t1 ; t2 g D dt L.qi .t/; qP i .t/I t/ : (2.1)
t1

Here, qi , i D 1; 2; : : : ; N, are points in N-dimensional configuration space. Thus

qi .t/ describes the motion of the system, and qP i .t/ D dqi =dt determines its velocity
along the path in configuration space. The endpoints of the trajectory are given by
qi .t1 / D qi1 , and qi .t2 / D qi2 .
Next we want to find out what the actual dynamical path of the system is. The
answer is contained in the principle of stationary action: in response to infinitesimal
variation of the integration path, the action S is stationary, ıS D 0, for variations
about the correct path, provided the initial and final configurations are held fixed.
On the other hand, if we permit infinitesimal changes of qi .t/ at the initial and final
times, including alterations of those times, the only contribution to ıS comes from
the endpoint variations, or

ıS D G.t2 /  G.t1 / : (2.2)

Equation (2.2) is the most general formulation of the action principle in mechanics.
The fixed values G1 and G2 depend only on the endpoint path variables at the
respective terminal times.
Again, given a system with the action functional S, the actual time evolution
in configuration space follows that path about which general variations produce
only endpoint contributions. The explicit form of G is dependent upon the special

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W. Dittrich, M. Reuter, Classical and Quantum Dynamics,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-36786-2_2
4 2 The Action Principles in Mechanics

representation of the action principle. In the following we begin with the one that is
best known, i.e.,
1. Lagrange: The Lagrangian for a point particle with mass m, moving in
a potential V.xi ; t/, is
m 2
L.xi ; xP i I t/ D xP  V.xi ; t/ : (2.3)
2 i
Here and in the following we restrict ourselves to the case N D 3; i.e., we
describe the motion of a single mass point by xi .t/ in real space. The dynamical
variable xi .t/ denotes the actual classical trajectory of the particle which is
parametrized by t with t1  t  t2 .
Now we consider the response of the action functional (2.1) with respect to
changes in the coordinates and in the time, ıxi .t/ and ıt.t/, respectively. It is
important to recognize that, while the original trajectory is being shifted in real
space according to

xi .t/ ! x0i .t0 / D xi .t/ C ıxi .t/ (2.4)

the time-readings along the path become altered locally, i.e., different at each
individual point on the varied curve—including the endpoints. This means that
our time change is not a global .ıt.t/ D const:/ rigid time displacement, equally
valid for all points on the trajectory, but that the time becomes changed locally,
or, shall we say, gauged, for the transported trajectory. All this indicates that we
have to supplement (2.4) by

t ! t0 .t/ D t C ıt.t/ ; (2.5)

where the terminal time changes are given by ıt.t2 / D ıt2 , and ıt.t1 / D ıt1 .
To the time change (2.5) is associated the change in the integration measure
in (2.1) given by the Jacobi formula
 
d.t C ıt/ d
d.t C ıt/ D dt D 1 C ıt.t/ dt (2.6)
dt dt
or
d
ı.dt/ WD d.t C ıt/  dt D dt ıt.t/ : (2.7)
dt

If the time is not varied, we write ı0 instead of ı; i.e., ı0 t D 0 or Œı0 ; d=dt D 0.

The variation of xi .t/ is then given by

d
ıxi .t/ D ı0 xi .t/ C ıt .xi .t// (2.8)
dt
2 The Action Principles in Mechanics 5

since up to higher order terms we have

dx0i .t/
ıxi .t/ D x0i .t0 /  xi .t/ D x0i .t C ıt/  xi .t/ D x0i .t/ C ıt  xi .t/
dt
dxi dxi
D .x0i .t/  xi .t// C ıt DW ı0 xi .t/ C ıt :
dt dt
Similarly,

d
ı xP i .t/ D ı0 xP i .t/ C ıt xP i (2.9)
dt
d d
D ı0 xP i C .ıtPxi /  xP i .ıt/
dt dt
 
d d d d d
D ı0 C ıt xi  xP i ıt D .ıxi /  xP i ıt : (2.10)
dt dt dt dt dt

The difference between ı and ı0 acting on t, xi .t/ and xP i .t/ is expressed by the
identity

d
ı D ı0 C ıt : (2.11)
dt
So far we have obtained
2d 3
dt .Lıt/ıt dt
dL

Z t2 Z t2 6 ‚ …„ ƒ
7
6 d 7
ıS D Œı.dt/L C dtıL D dt 6 L .ıt/ CıL7
t1 t1 4 dt 5

Z t2    Z t2  
d dL d
D dt .Lıt/ C ıL  ıt D dt .Lıt/ C ı0 L ;
t1 dt dt t1 dt
(2.12)

since, according to (2.11) we have

d
ıL D ı0 L C ıt L: (2.13)
dt
The total variation of the Lagrangian is then given by

d @L @L dL
ıL D ı0 L C ıt LD ı 0 xi C ı0 xP i C ıt
dt @xi @Pxi dt
 
@L @L @L @L @L
D ı 0 xi C ı0 xP i C ıt xP i C xR i C
@xi @Pxi @xi @Pxi @t
6 2 The Action Principles in Mechanics

   
@L d @L d @L
D ı0 C ıt xi C ı0 C ıt xP i C ıt
@xi dt @Pxi dt @t
@L @L @L
D ıxi C ı xP i C ıt :
@xi @Pxi @t

Now we go back to (2.3) and substitute

@L @V.xi ; t/ @L @L @V
D ; D mPxi ; D ; (2.14)
@xi @xi @Pxi @t @t

so that we obtain, with the aid of (2.10):

@V @V d d
ıL D  ıt  ıxi C mPxi ıxi  mPx2i ıt : (2.15)
@t @xi dt dt

Our expression for ıS then becomes

Z  
t2
d @V @V 2 d
ıS D dt mPxi ıxi  ıt  ıxi C .L.t/  mPxi / ıt : (2.16)
t1 dt @t @xi dt

We can also write the last expression for ıS a bit differently, thereby presenting
explicitly the coefficients of ıxi and ıt:
Z ( "  2 ! #
t2
d dxi m dxi
ıS D dt m ıxi  C V ıt
t1 dt dt 2 dt
"  2 #)
d 2 xi @V @V d m dxi
m 2 ıxi  ıxi  ıt C ıt CV ; (2.17)
dt @xi @t dt 2 dt

or with the definition

 2
@L m dxi
ED xP i  L D C V.xi ; t/ ; (2.18)
@Pxi 2 dt
Z t2  
d dxi
ıS D dt m ıxi  Eıt
t1 dt dt
Z t2   2   
d xi @V dE @V
C dt ıxi m 2 C C ıt  : (2.19)
t1 dt @xi dt @t

Since ıxi and ıt are independent variations, the action principle ıS D G2  G1

implies the following laws:

d 2 xi @V.xi ; t/
ıxi W m 2
D ; .Newton/ ; (2.20)
dt @xi
2 The Action Principles in Mechanics 7

i.e., one second-order differential equation.

dE @V
ıt W D ; (2.21)
dt @t

so that for a static potential, @V=@t D 0, the law of the conservation of energy
follows: dE=dt D 0.

dxi
Surface term W G D m ıxi  Eıt : (2.22)
dt
2. Hamiltonian: As a function of the Hamiltonian,

p2i
H.xi ; pi I t/ D C V.xi ; t/ ; (2.23)
2m

the Lagrangian (2.3) can also be written as .pi WD @L=@Pxi ):

dxi
L D pi  H.xi ; pi I t/ : (2.24)
dt
Here, the independent dynamical variables are xi and pi ; t is the independent
time-parameter variable. Hence the change of the action is
Z t2  
dxi
ıS D ı dt pi  H.xi ; pi I t/
t1 dt
Z t2  
d dxi d
D dt pi ıxi C ıpi  ıH  H ıt : (2.25)
t1 dt dt dt

Upon using
 
@H @H @H
ıH D ıxi C ıpi C ıt ; (2.26)
@xi @pi @t

where, according to (2.23): @H=@xi D @V=@xi and @H=@pi D pi =m, we obtain

Z t2
d
ıS D Œpi ıxi  Hıt
dt
t1 dt
Z t2       
dpi @V dxi pi dH @H
C dt ıxi C C ıpi  C ıt  : (2.27)
t1 dt @xi dt m dt @t
8 2 The Action Principles in Mechanics

The action principle ıS D G2  G1 then tells us here that

dxi @H pi
ıpi W D D ; (2.28)
dt @pi m

dpi @H @V
ıxi W D D : (2.29)
dt @xi @xi

Here we recognize the two first-order Hamiltonian differential equations.

dH @H
ıt W D : (2.30)
dt @t
Surface term: G D pi ıxi  Hıt : (2.31)

Let us note for later use:

ıS D G2  G1 D Œpi ıxi  Hıtt2  Œpi ıxi  Hıtt1 : (2.32)

Compared with .x1 WD fxi .t1 /g, x2 WD fxi .t2 /gI i D 1; 2; 3/

@S @S @S @S
ıS D ıx1 C ıx2 C ıt1 C ıt2 (2.33)
@x1 @x2 @t1 @t2

(2.32) yields

@S @S
p1 D  ; H.x1 ; p1 I t1 / D (2.34)
@x1 @t1
or
 
@S @S
H x1 ;  ; t1  D0: (2.35)
@x1 @t1

In the same manner, it follows that:

 
@S @S @S
p2 D ; H x2 ; ; t2 C D0: (2.36)
@x2 @x2 @t2

Obviously, (2.35) and (2.36) are the Hamilton–Jacobi equations for finding the
action S. In this way we have demonstrated that the action (2.1) satisfies the
Hamilton–Jacobi equation. (Later on we shall encounter S again as the generating
function of a canonical transformation .qi ; pi / ! .Qi ; Pi / of the F1 .qi ; Qi ; t/-
type.
20 3 The Action Principle in Classical Electrodynamics

which can be integrated to yield

Z Z Z  
1 @L dx d @L
D d P D d  d xP  : (3.13)
c2 @x d d @Px

Since our original Lagrangian has the form L D L.x ; xP  /, we have

dL @L @L
D  xP  C  xR  (3.14)
d @x @Px

so that we can continue to write for ./

 Z Z  
1 @L   d @L
./ D  L  d R
x  d P
x
c2 @Px d @Px
 Z  
1 d @L
D  2 L  d xP  
c d @Px
 
1 @L
D  2 L  xP   : (3.15)
c @Px

@L
In our particular case with @Px
D ec A , we obtain

1 h 2 e  e  i
D m 0 c C P
x A   xP A
c2 c c
D m0 :

Remarkably,  has become independent of  by now. Therefore, according to (3.10),

the modified Lagrangian L is given by
e m0 2
L D m0 c2 C xP A C .Px C c2 /
c 2
m0 2 e
D .Px  c2 / C xP A
2 c
which brings us back to the integrand of Eq. (3.6).
Finally, as a third version of the action we consider
Z     
2
dx  m0   2
 e 
SD d p v C v v  c C v A (3.16)
1 d 2 c
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a really first-class highly certificated magician from Cairo, or some
big town, and get him to come out and do the job. In the meantime,
as Qwaytin had told me that there were some mounds in the
Kairowin hattia, that we should go there through the eastern part of
the Farafra depression and see if they did not contain treasure.
Qwaytin had heard that they contained buildings, and so thought that
it would be a likely place for buried riches, though, as he said
lugubriously, he did not expect that we should find anything like what
we might have done if we had discovered the treasure of those three
Sultans. The following morning a rather crestfallen caravan set out
for the eastern side of Farafra.
 CHAPTER XXIII

O N leaving the hill we took a road that led us towards the north.
We first rounded the western end of the scarp of the detached
plateau parallel to which we had marched on coming from Bu
Gerara, and, about two hours after our start, ascended a steepish
bank on to the top of the plateau, which here was only about fifty feet
high.
From the summit of a small hill close by, a huge cliff stretching to
the north and south, as far as it was possible to see, was visible, far
off in the east; this was evidently the eastern boundary of the Farafra
depression, and, as I afterwards discovered, the continuation of the
cliff to the north of Bu Gerara.
The scarp was too far for me to be able to see any details of its
surface, with the light behind it, and as the top of it showed as only a
straight line, there were no points on it to which I could take a
bearing.
In these circumstances it was impossible either to fix its position
or to estimate the direction in which it ran. I several times met with
this difficulty, but found that, when a cliff faced towards the south, it
was only necessary for me to wait till the sun came round far enough
to begin to light up its surface, and then a rough estimate of the
direction in which it ran could be obtained by taking a bearing on to
the sun itself. This dodge was especially useful when it was
necessary to map the continuation of a cliff, part of which had
already been surveyed and the remainder of it could only be seen
from one point, such as the top of a high hill.
The part of the Farafra depression in which we found ourselves
was an absolutely featureless plain, of hard level sand, that sloped
slightly towards the foot of the scarp on our east. Here and there we
came across patches of greenish clay, with white lines running
through it, showing above the surface of the sand.
The Persian King, Cambyses, during his occupation of Egypt,
sent a great army across the desert to destroy the oracle of Jupiter
Ammon in Siwa Oasis. The army never reached Siwa; but was lost
in the desert. Its last resting-place is unknown, but, according to
native reports, the whole host perished of thirst in this huge
depression in which the oasis of Farafra lies.
I happened to mention to Qwaytin the subject of singing sands,
and asked him if he had ever heard any. He told me that somewhere
in the north of the Farafra depression there was a rock that was
supposed to be the “church” of the spirits of the lost Persian army. It
was called the “infidel rock,” because it “sang on Sunday.” It
appeared to be some form of musical sands.
It was not until the third day after our start from the treasure hill
that we sighted in the west the field of dunes that occupies the
centre of the Farafra wady. They appeared to be almost white in
colour, and lay a long way off.
Qwaytin told me that we should reach the Kairowin hattia on our
third day after leaving his hill. It will give some idea of his utter
incompetence as a guide when I say that we did not actually get
there until two days later.
He came into my tent on the first evening and began yarning in an
aimless sort of way, as he generally did as a preliminary to serious
business, and I endeavoured to extract some information from him
as to the topography of the Bedayat country, with which he was well
acquainted.
But he at once got impatient and changed the subject to that of
his confounded hill. He ended by asking—almost demanding—that
we should go back there to have another look at it, and to make
certain that there was not another hill in the neighbourhood which
might be the one indicated in his book. On my refusing to do so, he
flounced out of the tent—he was certainly a queer customer to deal
with.
 Whenever I spoke to him the next day he began gassing about his
wretched hill, and saying that he wanted to go back to it; but towards
evening he rather recovered himself, and when he came to my tent I
again threw out feelers about the country of the Bedayat, though he
declined to tell me anything about the district, he started giving me a
lot of information about the Bedayat themselves, which, as they are
an almost unknown race, proved extremely interesting.
They claim to be descended from an afrit, whom, for some crime,
either David or Solomon shut up in a box, till he grew to such an
enormous size that he burst it open. There still exists apparently a
mongrel Bedayat—Tibbu tribe, known as the M’Khiat er Rih, that
possess the miraculous power of being able to walk over sand
without leaving any tracks behind them—a most useful
accomplishment in the desert for a race of born freebooters. This
peculiarity they owe to the fact that wherever they go they are
followed by a wind that immediately obliterates their footprints!
On our fourth day after leaving the treasure hill, our road
converged towards the dunes lying on our west, and, as Qwaytin
seemed to be hopelessly lost, I climbed one of the biggest of them
with him to try and make out our position.
From the top, the east and west scarp, with a break in it leading
up to Baharia Oasis, that lies on the north of Farafra, could be seen
in the far distance, but no sign of the hattia Kairowin was visible. In
front of us, however, was a high three-headed sif, or longitudinal
sand dune, that Qwaytin declared to be the landmark for the hattia
from the south.
As we were getting very short of water, the news that the hattia
was not in sight caused something like consternation among my
men. They all started grumbling at Qwaytin’s ignorance of the road,
and Ibrahim went so far as to ask him point-blank why he called
himself a guide, if he knew so little about the desert.
This coming from a young Sudani, hardly out of his ’teens, to an
elderly Arab guide, who, moreover, was a sheykh of his tribe, was a
great ayb, and Qwaytin was intensely put out. Qway, under the
circumstances, would have retaliated with some stinging remarks on
the inferiority of “slaves” and the respect that was due from a boy to
his elders and superiors in rank; but Qwaytin lacked his ready
powers of vituperation. He was a slow-witted old curmudgeon, and
failed entirely to put Ibrahim in his place. His own men stood up for
him in a feeble sort of way. But they were no match for Ibrahim, and
eventually gave up any attempt to defend their sheykh, probably
feeling themselves that there was not much to be said in his
defence. As I rather wanted to encourage a certain amount of friction
between my men and Qwaytin’s, I left them to settle their differences
as best they could, with the result that Qwaytin and his men got
much the worst of the wrangle.
Kairowin hattia measures some eighteen miles from north to
south, by seven from east to west. It consists of a level scrub-
covered area, in which, here and there, are to be seen a few
neglected-looking palms. A number of wells have been sunk here at
various times; one on the extreme eastern edge of the hattia, where
the road coming from Assiut first enters the scrub, is known as Bir
Murr. This well, which I did not visit, is said to be sanded up. Another
well somewhere to the north, I believe, is known as Bir Abd el Qadr.
There are also several others, all of which seem to be impartially
named Bir Kairowin. Probably water can be found under all the lower
lying parts of the hattia by digging for a few feet into the ground,
which throughout this district consists of chalk.
The wells in every case apparently give water so thick with chalk
particles that when first drawn from them it is almost as milky as
whitewash. Attempts to clear the water by passing it through a
Berkefeld filter failed, as the chalk clogged the filter after a few
strokes. But when it had been allowed to stand for a few hours, most
of the chalk settled down to the bottom, and the water that was
poured off passed quite easily through the filter, after which it proved
to be of quite good quality.
I, unfortunately, forgot to wind my watches the first night in the
hattia, and so allowed the half chronometer I had been using in
taking my observations to run down. As I was depending on it for my
longitudes, this necessitated a stay of two or three days in the camp
in order to ascertain its new rate after it had been rewound.
 These watches are for some reason only made so as to run for
one day. As oversights of this kind must be of common occurrence
with travellers, it would seem to be preferable that they should be
made so as to run for two days, and be furnished with an up and
down indicator to show how long an interval has elapsed since they
were last wound.
I spent a considerable part of the time while in the hattia in trying,
without success, to get a shot at gazelle. There appeared to be very
few in the district, though a considerable number of old tracks were
to be seen where they had been feeding on the scrub.
This scarcity of game may perhaps have been due to the fact that
a few bedawin were at that time living there in charge of some
camels belonging to the Senussi zawia at Qasr Farafra. These men
kept away from the camp, but I saw them and their camels several
times wandering about in the scrub, and twice found small hovels
constructed of brushwood, in which they had been living—they had,
so far as I could see, no tents.
My men spent most of their time in grubbing about in some large
mounds. On the top of one of these, about thirty feet high, Ibrahim
found some burnt bricks. The whole mound was covered by a thick
growth of terfa bushes, among which the sand had collected,
completely hiding any building there might have been beneath it.
It must have been originally a building of some size and of
considerable height, and was perhaps a tower. The men unearthed
part of a small room at the base of the mound. It had been well built,
of the same burnt bricks, and the interior was covered with plaster. A
few pieces of broken pottery were found, one of them covered with a
green glaze. There were four or five other mounds of a similar nature
in the neighbourhood; but we had neither time nor implements
thoroughly to examine them.
As the total result of their treasure hunt in Kairowin the men only
unearthed one corpse and a few bits of broken pottery, without
finding even a single copper coin to gratify their cupidity. They were
consequently considerably disillusioned with their occupation, and I
experienced no difficulty in getting them to start for Qasr Farafra.
 I made first for the main well, that is known as the Bir Kairowin, in
order to close my traverse. The water lay about eight feet below the
surface; access being gained to it by the usual sloping path, cut out
of one of its sides. By the top of the well was a mud-built trough for
watering camels, with an empty paraffin tin lying beside it for use as
a bucket.
Immediately on leaving the hattia we got into the dunes, which
cover a large area in the centre of the Farafra depression. The first
two or three dunes gave a little difficulty, but we found the rest of
them quite easy to cross. They were all, so far as I could see, of a
very elongated whalebacked type, which ran roughly from north to
south, in the direction of the prevailing wind.
Qasr Farafra lay almost due west from our camp. Soon after we
got into the sand it became clear that Qwaytin was again hopelessly
lost, as I found we were marching almost due south. I was obliged to
put it to my guide, as inoffensively as I could, that if he would change
the direction in which he was leading us by a mere right angle, we
might perhaps reach our destination, instead of going on to Dakhla
Oasis as we seemed to be doing. Qwaytin was so hopelessly lost
that he accepted my suggestion without the slightest argument.
Soon after this we got out of the sand on to level desert, where a
large number of black nodules of iron pyrites were to be seen lying
on the surface. Further on some fine specimens of sand erosion
were met with in the shape of chalk “mushrooms” and table rocks.
Otherwise this part of the desert was quite featureless. The road lay
entirely over white chalk, which caused a rather trying glare in the
blazing sunlight.
We sighted Qasr Farafra on the evening of the second day after
leaving Kairowin hattia; but as night fell before we could reach it, we
camped a few miles away from the village. Two hours’ march on the
following morning brought us into the oasis. On the outskirts we
passed a patch of ground on which the sand was encroaching, some
palms lying on the north of it being almost entirely submerged.
We camped on the northern side of the village. A large crowd of
natives came out and stood watching us while the tent was being
pitched. Among them was a sulky-looking fellow whom I was told
was the ’omda; so, as soon as the tent was pitched, I invited him and
some of the other men standing by to come in.
We had foolishly camped too close to the village, with the result
that throughout the greater part of the day the camp was surrounded
by a crowd of men and children watching all our actions, peering into
the tent, thronging round the theodolite, when I began to take
observations, and generally showing an ill-mannerly curiosity that
was in great contrast to the conduct of the natives of the other oases
in which we stayed. Farafra being the least known of the Egyptian
oases, the advent of a European was an event of such rare
occurrence that the natives had evidently decided to make the most
of it.
The natives of Farafra Oasis, who are known as the Farfaroni, or
sometimes as the Farafaroni, are a far more vigorous lot than those
of Kharga and Dakhla. They were a surly unpleasant-looking crowd.
The day after our arrival, I went out with the ’omda and Qwaytin to
see the village and plantations. With the exception of an ezba at ’Ain
Sheykh Murzuk, where there are a few houses, a Senussi zawia and
a family or two continuously resident to tend the cultivation near the
well, Qasr Farafra is the only permanently inhabited spot in the
whole Farafra depression. It is a poor little place with a total
population of about five hundred and fifty inhabitants. The houses
are of the usual mud-built type, and in most cases little better than
huts; almost the only exception being that of a square tower,
showing in places the remains of battlements, attributed, perhaps
rightly, by the natives to the Romans, who are said to have erected it
as a keep to protect the village.
This proved to be rather an interesting place. It is not inhabited,
but the door is kept locked with a watchman perpetually on guard
over it. The building is used solely as a storehouse, each family in
the village having the right to the use of one of the rooms that it
contains—there were said to be no less than one hundred and
twenty-five chambers in the building.
 The ’omda showed us over the tower. The entrance lay through a
strong wooden door, at the top of a flight of steps, in a passage
entered in the middle of one of the outer walls, the walls on either
side of which were pierced with apertures, apparently intended for
use as loop-holes. The passage extended the whole height of the
building and was unroofed, in order that stones might be dropped
from above on to any assailant attempting to attack the door.
 BOY WITH CROSS-BOW, FARAFRA.

The interior of the tower was a perfect labyrinth of breakneck

stairways and little rooms opening out of narrow dark passages.
After scrambling up several sets of steps and repeatedly banging my
head in the dark against the low roof, we at length emerged into a
sort of courtyard at the top, surrounded by two tiers of small
chambers, each provided with its own locked door. Some further
scrambling landed us on the roof that covered the rooms and formed
a kind of platform surrounding the courtyard. From here a wide view
could be obtained over the oasis and depression.
There was not much of consequence to be seen. Below lay the
village, looking, when viewed from above, even more squalid than
from below. Scattered round it, within a radius of a few miles, lay a
number of small patches of cultivation, showing the positions of the
various wells and springs. Seven or eight miles away to the west
was a cliff of considerable height, forming the scarpment of the Guss
Abu Said—an isolated plateau beyond which, though invisible from
the tower, lay a well, “Bir Labayat,” and the little oases of Iddaila and
Nesla, in another large depression, the dimensions of which were
unknown. Here and there on the floor of the depression a few
isolated hills stood up to break the level monotony, the most
conspicuous amongst them being Jebel Gunna el Bahari, about
fifteen miles to the north-east. Otherwise the view over the
depression was singularly monotonous. The only other noticeable
features being the cliffs in the far distance to the north and east that
marked the limits of the higher plateau.
On descending from the tower the ’omda took me round the
village. Except for its poverty-stricken appearance, it differed little
from those in Dakhla and Kharga Oases. There seemed to be few
houses with a second storey, and the palm leaf hedges, that usually
topped the wall surrounding the flat roofs in the other oases, were
seldom visible.
Having completed our survey of the village, the ’omda took us to
his house. It was a very poor residence for a man of his position in
the village, and was overrun with fowls, goats and filthy little children,
mostly suffering from ringworm. He gave us some dates and very
bad tea, but no cigarettes were produced, probably because, like
most of the inhabitants of the place, he “followed the Sheykh.”
In the afternoon I went with Abd er Rahman and the ’omda to see
the winch of a boring machine that had been given to the zawia by a
wealthy Egyptian in Cairo, in order that they could sink a new well.
They wanted my opinion on it, as two of the cog wheels had been
broken and the work of sinking the well had had to stop in
consequence. It was obvious that there was nothing to be done,
except to replace the wheels. I took measurements of the broken
parts and promised to have duplicates of them made in Cairo, when I
got back, and to have them sent to the oasis.
I was engaged in noting down their dimensions, when Abd er
Rahman informed me that the Senussi sheykhs from the zawia were
coming, and I caught sight of two men, with Qwaytin in their train,
stalking along in my direction.
The zawia was run by three sheykhs who were brothers, the
eldest was, however, at that time away in Cairo. The other two were
not a prepossessing-looking couple. Sheykh Ibn ed Dris, the elder,
was a fine-looking Arab, and would have been even handsome if his
face had not been marred by its dour, truculent expression. His
youngest brother, Sheykh Mohammed, was apparently hardly out of
his ’teens, and seemed to be somewhat of a cipher, being
completely swamped by the aggressive personality of the elder
sheykh. The only impression he made was one of extreme sulkiness.
Qwaytin told me that they had come to take me for a walk round the
plantations that surrounded the village, adding that as I was a
stranger in the oasis they felt that they ought to entertain me.
They did not seem to relish the job very much. Sheykh Ibn ed Dris
was extremely taciturn, and his brother never opened his mouth
during the whole of our tour of inspection.
Compared with the other Egyptian oases, the plantations in
Farafra contained comparatively few palms and a much larger
proportion of other fruit trees—olives, vines, apricots, white
mulberries, figs, pomegranates, limes, sweet lemons, a few orange
trees and a small apple, which, being regarded as a rarity, was very
highly prized. Formerly there used to be a considerable export of
olive oil to the Nile Valley, but for some reason, perhaps because the
trees were getting too old, the crop was said to have diminished
considerably, and barely to suffice for the wants of the oasis.
The fields surrounding the plantations were planted so far as I
saw only with wheat, barley and onions, but durra and rice are also
said to be grown in the oasis. The areas under cultivation seemed
small, but the plants all looked healthy, and even luxuriant. I saw no
patches of salty ground, such as were often to be seen in Dakhla.
 A Bride and her Pottery.
A bride from the poorer classes can only
contribute a small amount of earthenware
towards furnishing her new home. In her wedding
procession she carries this on a chair on her
head. Note the sequins on the front of her dress.
(p. 253).

Farafra is such a small place that administratively it is under

Baharia, the nearest oasis, lying about three days’ journey away to
the north-east. In the whole oasis of Farafra there are only about
twenty wells, the two most important ones were said to be ’Ain
Ebsay, lying four to five miles to the south of the village, which I did
not visit, and ’Ain el Belad (the town well), both of which were said to
be of Roman origin and to resemble those of Dakhla Oasis.
 Some of the wells are said to be connected with long underground
infiltration channels cut horizontally, at some depth below the
surface, similar to those at ’Ain Um Debadib, but I had no opportunity
of examining any of these. The ’Ain el Belad, that supplies the
village, flowed into a large pool covered with green weed and to
some extent surrounded by palm groves, that in the glow of the
setting sun made a most lovely picture.
We ended our promenade at the door of Sheykh Ibn ed Dris’
house in the zawia. It was a gloomy mud-built building, without a
trace of the European furniture that characterised the zawia and
houses of the Mawhub family in Dakhla. Here I took leave of my
unpleasant companions, much, I fancy, to our mutual relief. As the
sheykhs had to a slight extent thawed during our walk, I asked Ibn
ed Dris to let me photograph him, to which, rather to my surprise, he
grudgingly consented. He did not make a pretty picture. He was
wearing his normal expression, a scowl that “never came off,” and
nothing that I said would induce him to look pleasant.
Supplies of all kinds were very scarce in the oasis. No fruit or
vegetables were procurable, and the only eatables to be bought
were fowls, eggs and onions. Owing to nearly the whole of the
inhabitants being members of the Senussia, tobacco was also very
difficult to obtain, as the members of the sect are forbidden to
smoke. The men had all run out of cigarettes, and were much upset
at not being able to renew their supplies.
The morning after my walk with the sheykhs, Ibrahim, who was
always keen on any kind of sport, told me that quail were beginning
to arrive in the oasis, so I went out with him to try and shoot some. I
only, however, saw two—one of which I succeeded in missing twice.
The natives of Qasr Farafra were so unfriendly that I was unable
to see as much of the place as I should have wished, and I was only
able to take a very few photos.
The next morning we packed up and set out to Bu Mungar. After
an uneventful journey of about eight hours to the south-west, over a
featureless level desert, we reached the little oasis of ’Ain Sheykh
Murzuk—the only permanently inhabited spot, besides Qasr Farafra,
in the whole depression.
Three or four men came to meet us as we approached the
plantation, and greeted Qwaytin with enthusiasm. The oasis was a
very small one, extending to only a few acres. The cultivation
consisted of only a few palms and fruit trees and a field or two of
grain. Among the palms were hidden two or three houses, which I,
however, inspected only from a distance. One of them, I was told,
was a Senussi zawia.
 CHAPTER XXIV

W E started the next morning at dawn. Soon after leaving ’Ain

Sheykh Murzuk, Qwaytin showed me a pass ascending the
scarp of a small plateau, the Guss abu Said, on our right, over
which, he said, passed a road to Iddaila. From Iddaila, he said, a
road ran direct through Nesla and Bu Mungar to Dakhla Oasis.
Two hours after our start we reached a very small oasis, only an
acre or two in extent, known as ’Ain el Agwa. It contained a few
palms and evidently a well, though the place was so covered with
drifted sand that the palms in some cases were buried nearly to their
crowns, and the well was completely invisible.
About an hour farther on we reached a similar oasis, called ’Ain
Khalif. There were no traces of inhabitants at either of these places;
the dead leaves left hanging on the palms showed that they were
entirely uncultivated, and at ’Ain el Agwa the trees themselves
seemed to be dying.
These little places do not seem to have been previously reported,
though Rohlfs’ route must have passed fairly close to where they
were situated. From the size of the palms they seemed to be only
about twenty years old, so possibly the wells were sunk since the
time of his visit.
Though the sand had to some extent encroached on the oasis at
’Ain el Agwa, it had not done so to anything like the same extent as
at ’Ain Khalif, and the feeble well, discharging into a tiny pool a few
yards across, was still quite clear of sand.
As the water proved to be good, we stopped here for half an hour,
while we refilled the gurba and examined the oasis.
Shortly before sunset we reached a place where the road forked.
A line of small stones had been laid across the right-hand track—a
common sign among the Arabs that the road was not to be followed.
Qwaytin took the left-hand branch and soon afterwards we came to
the top of the descent into Bu Mungar. The path at this point was a
narrow cleft, a few yards long and not more than a foot or two wide,
that proved as difficult to negotiate as the very similar one leading
from the ’Ain Amur plateau down towards Dakhla. Below it lay a
sandy slope that extended to the bottom of the cliff and presented
little difficulty.
On reaching the bottom of the slope we set out for Bu Mungar,
which lay a short distance ahead of us. But on reaching the hattia,
Qwaytin, as usual, got lost, and it was some time before we could
find the well.
It had been a stiflingly hot day and we had marched for over
thirteen hours, with only a short halt at ’Ain Khalif. I had done the
whole distance on foot, so I was dog tired, and extremely thirsty. So,
as the evening of our arrival was cloudy, and as to get in a set of
observations would probably have meant that I should have had to
sit up for several hours for the clouds to clear off, I put off the work
until the following day, meaning to leave the place in the afternoon.
My tent was pitched on the extreme eastern end of the hattia. The
cliff of the plateau formed a huge semicircular bay on our east, the
southern point of which could be seen about twenty-five miles away
to the south-east of the camp. In the middle of this bay lay a second
large detached scrub-covered area.
Bu Mungar contains at least two wells, as in addition to the one
near which we were camped, the men found a second one, about a
quarter of a mile away to the south-west, the position of which was
marked by a group of trees—acacias and palms, so far as I can
remember.
The other well, that lay about two hundred yards to the north-west
of the camp, seemed to be an artesian one, similar to those in the
Egyptian oases. A little stream ran from it for a short distance till it
lost itself in the sandy soil. So far as I was able to see the trees were
larger and the vegetation more luxuriant than in the Kairowin hattia.
 To the south, a huge area covered as far as the horizon with sand
dunes was visible. A large dune overhung the camp on its eastern
side, and drift sand seemed to be encroaching in many places on the
vegetation. In the neighbourhood of the camp was a praying place,
or “desert mosque,” made according to Qwaytin after one of the
Senussi models. This consisted of a line of stones laid out on the
ground much in the shape of a button-hook, the straight portion of
which pointed in the direction of Mecca, to indicate the direction in
which worshippers should face when performing their devotions. It
was the only praying place of the shape that I ever saw.

SENUSSI PRAYING PLACE, BU MUNGAR.

The wells of the hattia perhaps dated from Roman times, as at a

short distance to the south of the camp was a small mud building
(der) which the natives attributed to that period. The remains of the
vaulted roofs and the arched tops of the openings in the walls tended
to confirm this view.
I managed the next day to get the necessary astronomical
observations to fix the position of the place, but was not able to
make a thorough examination of it, as complications with the
Senussia that, from numerous indications I had seen since leaving
Assiut, I had been expecting for some time suddenly came to a
rather unpleasant head.
It was not until I got to Bu Mungar that I discovered that all the
men in my caravan belonged to the Senussia. Qwaytin and his three
men, I knew, had always been of that persuasion, and, while in
Farafra, Abd er Rahman, Ibrahim and Dahab had all been so worked
upon by Sheykh Ibn ed Dris that, just before we left that oasis, they
too had joined the order, and showed all the fanaticism to be
expected from new converts.
A party of thirty Tibbus, sent from Kufara for my entertainment, by
Sheykh Ahmed Esh Sherif, at that time head of the Senussia, were
hanging round somewhere in the neighbourhood of Bu Mungar,
close enough for Qwaytin to start signalling to them by firing shots at
imaginary pigeons and lighting an enormous and quite unnecessary
bonfire at dusk—a well-known Arab signal.
Twenty more men had been sent from Kufara to reinforce the
Mawhubs at their ezba, in the north-west corner of Dakhla, which I
should have to pass in order to enter the oasis on my way to Egypt;
while the inhabitants of Farafra—the only other oasis I could fall back
upon with my small caravan—were members of the order almost to a
man, and were on the look out for me if I returned that way. It was
explained to me that they had allowed me to go to Bu Mungar
instead of to Iddaila—my original intention—in order that I should
leave Egypt, and then, as I had altered my plans, no one would know
“where it happened!”
It was a neat little trap that I had foolishly walked into; but it had its
weak points. It was nearly dusk when Qwaytin fired his signal shots
that led to my enquiries, and, better still, a howling sandstorm was
blowing. If once we got out into the desert in these circumstances, I
felt confident of getting away without difficulty. But the prospect of
having the camp rushed before we could get off gave me such a bad
attack of cold feet that I decided to start running as soon as possible
in order to get them warm.
Qwaytin and his men, however, when told to do so, flatly refused
to leave the hattia. But he and his crowd were such a feeble lot that I
had little difficulty in reducing them to order. We lost so little time that
I got the tanks filled and the caravan off just after sunset.
Before starting it occurred to me that I might borrow a trick from
Abd er Rahman. So finding a sand-free space near the well, I
scratched the Senussi wasm with a stick deeply into the ground, and
then, to mislead the Senussi when they came as to the direction in
which we had gone, drew a line from it pointing towards the west—
the direction in which I knew they feared that I should go—and then
set out towards the south-east to Dakhla.
Almost immediately after leaving the camp we got on to the sand
hills. I then left the road, and, to Qwaytin’s intense disgust, struck out
into the dunes to the south, where the tearing gale that was blowing
very quickly obliterated our tracks.
After marching for two and a half hours, the dunes became
considerably larger, and, as the moon had set, travelling was
attended with such great difficulty that we halted till daylight.
But after leaving Bu Mungar our journey to Mut began to get too
much in the nature of “adventures” to be described in detail. It took
me all that I had learnt, during seven seasons spent in the desert, to
get my caravan into Dakhla, without creating that incident that I had
been warned to avoid, and which might easily have resulted in
something in the nature of a native rising.
No one in the caravan but Qwaytin had been over the road
before, and he, of course, got hopelessly lost, and in any case was
not reliable, so I had to take over his job and do the best I could as
guide.
After leaving Bu Mungar our road for the first day lay all over the
dunes. Late in the afternoon we came across three sifs—dunes with
an A-shaped section running up and down wind—which, since they
stretched across our path, gave us some difficulty. They were all
under twenty feet in height, but their sides were at such a steep
angle that the camels were quite unable to climb them, and the men
had to scoop paths diagonally up the face of the dunes and down
again on the farther side, over which the camels one by one with
difficulty were forced. Small as these sifs were they caused a
considerable delay. But these three ridges proved to be the last of
the dune belt, and the remainder of our road, till we reached the
dunes near Dakhla, we found to be easy going.