We Were Now About A Mile Ahead Of Our Party; But Accompanied By Our Two
Latooka Guides, And Upon Descending To The Valley And Crossing A Deep
Gully, We Soon Arrived Beneath A Large Fig Tree At The Extremity Of The
Vale.
No sooner was our presence observed than crowds of natives issued
from the numerous villages among the rocks, and surrounded us.
They were
all armed with bows and arrows and lances, and were very excited at
seeing the horses, which to them were unknown animals. Dismounting, I
fastened the horses to a bush, and we sat down on the grass under a
tree.
There were five or six hundred natives pressing round us. They were
excessively noisy, hallooing to us as though we were deaf, simply
because we did not understand them. Finding that they were pressing
rudely around us, I made signs to them to stand off; when at that moment
a curiously ugly, short, humped-back fellow came forward and addressed
me in broken Arabic. I was delighted to find an interpreter, and
requesting him to tell the crowd to stand back, I inquired for their
chief. The humpback spoke very little Arabic, nor did the crowd appear
to heed him, but they immediately stole a spear that one of my Latooka
guides had placed against the tree under which we were sitting. It was
getting rather unpleasant; but having my revolver and a double-barrelled
rifle in my hands, there was no fear of their being stolen.
In reply to a question to the humpback, he asked me "Who I was?" I
explained that I was a traveller. "You want ivory?" he said. "No," I
answered, "it is of no use to me." "Ah, you want slaves!" he replied.
"Neither do I want slaves," I answered. This was followed by a burst of
laughter from the crowd, and the humpback continued his examination.
"Have you got plenty of cows?" "Not one; but plenty of beads and
copper." "Plenty? Where are they?" "Not far off; they will be here
presently with my men;" and I pointed to the direction from which they
would arrive. "What countryman are you?" "An Englishman." He had never
heard of such people. "You are a Turk?" "All right," I replied; "I am
anything you like." "And that is your son?" (pointing at Mrs. Baker.)
"No, she is my wife." "Your wife! What a lie! He is a boy." "Not a bit
of it," I replied; "she is my wife, who has come with me to see the
women of this country." "What a lie!" he again politely re joined in the
one expressive Arabic word, "Katab." After this charmingly frank
conversation he addressed the crowd, explaining, I suppose, that I was
endeavouring to pass off a boy for a woman. Mrs. Baker was dressed
similarly to myself, in a pair of loose trowsers and gaiters, with a
blouse and belt - the only difference being that she wore long sleeves,
while my arms were bare from a few inches below the shoulder.
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