He Was A Handsome Fellow, Of A Light Brown Colour, And Black About The Muzzle.

About noon they came to a village of huts, called Barrah, and although only three in number, the natives

Flew in all directions. On their approaching the town, they beckoned to them, and got off their horses, for the purpose of giving them confidence, and sat down under the shade of a large tamarind tree. An old negro, who spoke a little Arabic, was the first who ventured to approach; seeing that he was not ill-treated, the others soon followed his example. Major Denham begged a little sour milk, a most refreshing beverage after a hot ride, but none was to be found, until they were assured that it should be paid for, and at the sight of the dollar they all jumped and skipped like so many monkeys. Major Denham now began to eat some biscuit which he had in his saddle cloth, which created much astonishment, and the first to whom he offered some, refused to eat it. One, rather bolder than the rest, put a small piece in his mouth, and pronounced it good, with such extravagant gestures, that the visitors all became clamorous. The major refused for a long time the man, who had been suspicious at first, to the great amusement of the rest, who seemed to relish the joke amazingly.

The little nest of thatched huts in which they lived, was most beautifully situated on a rising spot, in the midst of a rich and luxuriant though not thick forest, about three miles to the northeast of Woodie.

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