At 11 A.M. We Reached The Greater Abbaso, A Fiumara
About 100 Yards Wide, Fringed With Lovely Verdure And Full Of The Antelope
Called Gurnuk:
Its watershed was, as usual in this region, from west and
south-west to east and north-east.
About noon we halted, having travelled
eight miles from the Holy Tree.
At half past three reloading we followed the course of the Abbaso Valley,
the most beautiful spot we had yet seen. The presence of mankind, however,
was denoted by the cut branches of thorn encumbering the bed: we remarked
too, the tracks of lions pursued by hunters, and the frequent streaks of
serpents, sometimes five inches in diameter. Towards evening, our party
closed up in fear, thinking that they saw spears glancing through the
trees: I treated their alarm lightly, but the next day proved that it was
not wholly imaginary. At sunset we met a shepherd who swore upon the stone
[20] to bring us milk in exchange for tobacco, and presently, after a five
miles' march, we halted in a deserted kraal on the left bank of a Fiumara.
Clouds gathered black upon the hill tops, and a comfortless blast,
threatening rain, warned us not to delay pitching the Gurgi. A large fire
was lighted, and several guns were discharged to frighten away the lions
that infest this place. Twice during the night our camels started up and
rushed round their thorn ring in alarm.
* * * * *
Late in the morning of Saturday, the 9th December, I set out, accompanied
by Rirash and the End of Time, to visit some ruins a little way distant
from the direct road. After an hour's ride we turned away from the Abbaso
Fiumara and entered a basin among the hills distant about sixteen miles
from the Holy Tree. This is the site of Darbiyah Kola,--Kola's Fort,--so
called from its Galla queen. It is said that this city and its neighbour
Aububah fought like certain cats in Kilkenny till both were "eaten up:"
the Gudabirsi fix the event at the period when their forefathers still
inhabited Bulhar on the coast,--about 300 years ago. If the date be
correct, the substantial ruins have fought a stern fight with time.
Remnants of houses cumber the soil, and the carefully built wells are
filled with rubbish: the palace was pointed out to me with its walls of
stone and clay intersected by layers of woodwork. The mosque is a large
roofless building containing twelve square pillars of rude masonry, and
the Mihrab, or prayer niche, is denoted by a circular arch of tolerable
construction. But the voice of the Muezzin is hushed for ever, and
creepers now twine around the ruined fane. The scene was still and dreary
as the grave; for a mile and a half in length all was ruins--ruins--ruins.
Leaving this dead city, we rode towards the south-west between two rugged
hills of which the loftiest summit is called Wanauli. As usual they are
rich in thorns:
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