At four o'clock in the morning, November 6, 1899, we crossed the Tigris River in a tropical downpour, and struck out for the ruins of Babylon. About nine o'clock we halted for breakfast, where the hotel reminded me of a blacksmith shop, with several fireplaces and no roof. The plan in that country is for wayfarers to furnish their own food, cook it themselves, and when they can find the landlord, pay about one-third cent each for the accommodation, while the lodging is free anywhere on the ground. Of course, everyone pays their bills there, for the custom of the Turks and Bedouins is to kill thieves and burn them with their families and their entire belongings.

No sooner had our squad been filled with eggs and chickens than they began to grumble that they could not take us to Babylon on the price paid, but must leave us at Messaya on the Euphrates, where we could descend the river in a boat.

Moses now showed his teeth. Shammo began to bawl and everyone took a hand in the row but myself. They all talked so fast and loud that all I could understand was the profanity of Moses, who was a brave fellow and stood up for my rights as best as he could.

After the excitement had subsided, Moses explained that he could force them to take us through, but was afraid they might move slow and purposely leave us on the desert for the night, so I ordered them to turn over to Messaya, where we arrived about four o'clock p. m., when I decided the safest way was to have boats take us across the river at dark, and when out of sight of the village, pay the oarsmen big money, or force them to take us all the way down the river to Babylon, the distance of which, as near as I could learn, was somewhere between three and thirty miles. Our offer was gladly accepted, and we considered ourselves safe, as the Bedouins around Messaya would not know where we were.