Whilst Pitching The Tent, We Were Visited By Some Gudabirsi, Who
Attempted To Seize Our Abban, Alleging That He Owed Them A Cow.
We replied
doughtily, that he was under our sandals:
As they continued to speak in a
high tone, a pistol was discharged over their heads, after which they
cringed like dogs. A blazing fire, a warm supper, dry beds, broad jests,
and funny stories, soon restored the flagging spirits of our party.
Towards night the moon dispersed the thick mists which, gathering into
clouds, threatened rain, and the cold sensibly diminished: there was
little dew, and we should have slept comfortably had not our hungry mules,
hobbled as they were, hopped about the kraal and fought till dawn.
On the 6th December, we arose late to avoid the cold morning air, and at 7
A.M. set out over rough ground, hoping to ascend the Ghauts that day.
After creeping about two miles, the camels, unable to proceed, threw
themselves upon the earth, and we unwillingly called a halt at Jiyaf, a
basin below the Dobo [10] fiumara. Here, white flocks dotting the hills,
and the scavengers of the air warned us that we were in the vicinity of
villages. Our wigwam was soon full of fair-faced Gudabirsi, mostly Loajira
[11] or cow-herd boys, who, according to the custom of their class, wore
their Tobes bound scarf-like round their necks. They begged us to visit
their village, and offered a heifer for each lion shot on Mount Libahlay:
unhappily we could not afford time.
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