Wearied by delay at
Harar, I employed myself in meditating flight; they drily declared that
after-wit serves no good purpose:
Whilst I considered the possibility of
escape, they looked only at the prospect of being dragged back with
pinioned arms by the Amir's guard. Such is generally the effect of the
vulgar Moslems' blind fatalism.
I then wrote an English letter [29] from the Political Agent at Aden to
the Amir of Harar, proposing to deliver it in person, and throw off my
disguise. Two reasons influenced me in adopting this "neck or nothing"
plan. All the races amongst whom my travels lay, hold him nidering who
hides his origin in places of danger; and secondly, my white face had
converted me into a Turk, a nation more hated and suspected than any
Europeans, without our _prestige_. Before leaving Sagharrah, I entrusted
to the End of Time a few lines addressed to Lieut. Herne at Berberah,
directing him how to act in case of necessity. Our baggage was again
decimated: the greater part was left with Adan, and an ass carried only
what was absolutely necessary,--a change of clothes, a book or two, a few
biscuits, ammunition, and a little tobacco. My Girhi escort consisted of
Sherwa, the Bedouin Abtidon, and Mad Said mounted on the End of Time's
mule.
At 10 A.M. on the 2nd January, all the villagers assembled, and recited
the Fatihah, consoling us with the information that we were dead men. By
the worst of foot-paths, we ascended the rough and stony hill behind
Sagharrah, through bush and burn and over ridges of rock. At the summit
was a village, where Sherwa halted, declaring that he dared not advance: a
swordsman, however, was sent on to guard us through the Galla Pass. After
an hour's ride, we reached the foot of a tall Table-mountain called
Kondura, where our road, a goat-path rough with rocks or fallen trees, and
here and there arched over with giant creepers, was reduced to a narrow
ledge, with a forest above and a forest below. I could not but admire the
beauty of this Valombrosa, which reminded me of scenes whilome enjoyed in
fair Touraine. High up on our left rose the perpendicular walls of the
misty hill, fringed with tufted pine, and on the right the shrub-clad
folds fell into a deep valley. The cool wind whistled and sunbeams like
golden shafts darted through tall shady trees--
Bearded with moss, and in garments green--
the ground was clothed with dank grass, and around the trunks grew
thistles, daisies, and blue flowers which at a distance might well pass
for violets.
Presently we were summarily stopped by half a dozen Gallas attending upon
one Rabah, the Chief who owns the Pass. [30] This is the African style of
toll-taking: the "pike" appears in the form of a plump of spearmen, and
the gate is a pair of lances thrown across the road.
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