Then Began The Descent Of A Steep Rocky Hill, The Wall Of A Woody
Chasm, Through Whose Gloomy Depths The Shrunken Stream Of A Large Fiumara
Wound Like A Thread Of Silver.
The path would be safe to nought less
surefooted than a mule:
We rode slowly over rolling stones, steps of
micaceous grit, and through thorny bush for about half an hour. In the
plain below appeared a village of the Gerad's Midgans, who came out to see
us pass, and followed the strangers to some distance. One happening to
say, "Of what use is his gun?--before he could fetch fire, I should put
this arrow through him!" I discharged a barrel over their heads, and
derided the convulsions of terror caused by the unexpected sound.
Passing onwards we entered a continuation of the Wady Harirah. It is a
long valley choked with dense vegetation, through which meandered a line
of water brightly gilt by the sun's rays: my Somal remarked that were the
elephants now infesting it destroyed, rice, the favourite luxury, might be
grown upon its banks in abundance. Our road lay under clumps of shady
trees, over rocky watercourses, through avenues of tall cactus, and down
_tranchees_ worn by man eight and ten feet below stiff banks of rich red
clay. On every side appeared deep clefts, ravines, and earth cracks, all,
at this season, dry. The unarmed cultivators thronged from the frequent
settlements to stare, and my Somal, being no longer in their own country,
laid aside for guns their ridiculous spears.
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