In the latter may be seen the peaks of
Kadau and Madir, the property of the Habr Awal tribes; and along these
ranges it extends, I was told, towards Ogadayn. The surface of the plain
is gently rolling ground; the black earth, filled with the holes of small
beasts, would be most productive, and the outer coat is an expanse of
tall, waving, sunburnt grass, so unbroken, that from a distance it
resembles the nap of yellow velvet. In the frequent Wadys, which carry off
the surplus rain of the hills, scrub and thorn trees grow in dense
thickets, and the grass is temptingly green. Yet the land lies fallow:
water and fuel are scarce at a distance from the hills, and the wildest
Bedouins dare not front the danger of foraging parties, the fatal heats of
day, and the killing colds of night. On the edges of the plain, however,
are frequent vestiges of deserted kraals.
About mid-day, we crossed a depression in the centre, where Acacias
supplied us with gum for luncheon, and sheltered flocks of antelope. I
endeavoured to shoot the white-tailed Sig, and the large dun Oryx; but the
_brouhaha_ of the Caravan prevented execution. Shortly afterwards we came
upon patches of holcus, which had grown wild, from seeds scattered by
travellers. This was the first sight of grain that gladdened my eyes since
I left Bombay: the grave of the First Murderer never knew a Triptolemus
[2], and Zayla is a barren flat of sand.
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