Early trips to the coast—Disturbed state of BulhÁr—Stopping a fight—Two skirmishes—First exploring trips—Hostility of the natives—An unlucky trip—Start with my brother to explore the Habr Toljaala and Dolbahanta countries on duty—Camp on GÓlis Range—Theodolite station at 6800 feet—Enter the waterless plains—Advance to the Tug DÉr—News of raiders ahead, and of Col. A. Paget’s party—Dolbahanta horsemen—Advance to the Nogal Valley—Constantly annoyed by the Dolbahanta—Prehistoric tank and buildings at Badwein—Advance to Gosaweina—More horsemen—Insecure border, and scene of a raid—Explore Bur Dab Range—Robbers’ caves—Exploration of my brother on Wagar Mountain—Lovely scenery—Return to Berbera—Start on a second expedition to the Jibril Abokr country—The top of GÁn Libah—A new hartebeest—Death of a leopard—Hargeisa—Natives clamouring for British protection against Abyssinia—Bold behaviour of a leopard—Advance to the Marar Prairie—Camp at UjawÁji—Extraordinary scene on the prairie—Quantities of game—Gadabursi raid—Jibril Abokr welcome of the English—A shooting trip on the plains—News of three lions—Vedettes posted over lions—Advance to the attack—Savage charge; unconscious and in the clutches of a lioness—My brother’s account of the accident—His own narrow escape, and death of a fine lion—Civility of the Jibril Abokr—Abyssinian news—Return to the coast—Recovery from wounds—Third expedition; to the Gadabursi country—Great raid by the Jibril Abokr on the Bahgoba—Curious adventure with robbers—Betrayed by vultures—Raiding tactics—First meeting with the Gadabursi—Meeting with Ugaz NÚr—The rival sultans—Construction of an Abyssinian fort at Biyo-KabÓba—Esa in a ferment—Speech of MÚdun Golab—My brother bags a large bull elephant—March to Zeila.

In order to show the state of SomÁliland when the British Protectorate[17] was first established after the departure of the Egyptians, I propose to give a short account of my trips into the interior prior to 1887.

Soon after I had joined the Aden garrison in 1884, two English officers returned from a shooting trip to the GÓlis Range south of Berbera; this was, I believe, the first journey to the SomÁli interior undertaken by any Englishman since the attack on Sir Richard Burton’s expedition thirty years before. Accompanied by a friend, I was the next to make a short but unimportant shooting trip to GÓlis—in January 1885.

The first exploring party—that of Mr. F. L. James—had preceded us by about a month, and was already at Gerlogubi in distant OgÁdÉn. The Egyptians had a few months before evacuated the coast, the Pasha leaving with about half a battalion of soldiers and a few field-pieces, and Mr. L. P. Walsh, one of the assistant Residents at Aden, had taken over charge of Berbera and BulhÁr with a few Aden policemen. At the same time Zeila was, so far as I remember, handed over by the Egyptians to a British Consul, with a French Consul also living in the town. My next visit to SomÁliland occurred two months after my return from the shooting trip to GÓlis.

The Egyptian military quarters at BulhÁr had been reported flooded by a freshet from the Issutugan river, and I was sent over from Aden to meet Mr. Walsh and go with him to BulhÁr, in order to choose a site for hut barracks, to be put up by the Indian Sappers who were under my command. I chose the site for the huts and returned to Aden. I arrived again at BulhÁr on 27th September 1885, with thirty Sappers and all the material for constructing the huts, and camped near the site which we had chosen. For the first three weeks there was no chance of leaving camp even to go aoul shooting on the plain. Several native reports had reached us that the hill tribes, especially the Habr Gerhajis, were likely to come down and attack us, and not knowing the nature of SomÁli information at that time I was inclined to believe these rumours.

When the work was, however, fairly under way I took a few strolls into the plain. On one occasion, when out, attended only by my hunter, Ali Hirsi, we blundered within half a mile of a large party of raiding Habr Gerhajis horsemen from the hills, whom the police from Berbera were trying to catch. Not knowing anything about the locality of the band I fired at a bustard, with the result that the robbers bolted for the hills, thinking the police had come up with them.

BulhÁr was now getting full of people, the clans coming down into the plain. Two of these clans had a feud in active operation, and a large tree near Elmas Mountain was about this time the scene of a ghastly murder. Eight men and as many women and children of one of the clans were attacked when asleep under a tree by their enemies, and all had their throats cut. My hunter, Ali Hirsi, who belonged to the clan which had suffered, promptly asked leave to go to the interior and see his father, who, he said, had been suddenly taken ill. I afterwards found that this was incorrect, and that Ali Hirsi, being the son of an Ákil, had found it incumbent on him to answer the family call to arms.

Shortly afterwards my friend the late Mr. D. Morrison, Mr. Walsh’s assistant, arrived from Berbera to take charge of BulhÁr, and he at once found his hands full with this feud between the two clans of the Shirdone Yunis, Habr Awal, called respectively the Boho Shirdone and the Ba-Gadabursi Shirdone. British interests suffer sadly by these feuds occurring near our ports, as for the time being all trade is liable to be stopped.

A few days after M?’s arrival a messenger came running in at dawn one morning to say that the Boho had taken possession of the BulhÁr wells, three miles west of the town, and were that morning going to be attacked by the Ba-Gadabursi from Elmas, each side being about five hundred strong. M? at once decided to ride out with his interpreter and try to dissuade the Ba-Gadabursi from attacking. I accompanied him on one of the Sapper mules, taking with me Khoda Bux, a PanjÁbi muleteer, also mounted. After going three miles, at the BulhÁr wells we came upon the Boho Shirdone halted, awaiting the attack. Here I found my hunter, Ali Hirsi, sporting a khaili tobe, with a good nag grazing close by. He came up cheerily to me, with nothing of the servant about him, and shook hands. I asked him after his sick father, and with a bland smile he said he had got well again, and was going to fight the Ba-Gadabursi.

We rode on, and crossed a bare, undulating plain, which in the evenings is sometimes covered with sand-grouse, and where I had often hunted aoul, and a mile beyond the Boho we came upon the Ba-Gadabursi, not halted, but already advancing in line to the attack!

It was a stirring scene. About two hundred horsemen and three hundred spearmen on foot were advancing in a long line facing to the east, coming to meet us. The horsemen formed the left wing, marching along the flat sandy plain which stretched down to the raised sea-shore on our right, which, though we could hear their roar, hid from our view the white breakers of the Gulf of Aden. On our left the plain rose to low sand hillocks covered with grass and scrub, and along these came the right wing on foot, the men extended at about a pace apart, keeping a very good line, each man carrying his spears and shield and wearing his white tobe wound round his waist. Most of the horsemen wore the khaili, or red and blue tobe. The plain over which we had ridden stretched between us and BulhÁr, which lay four miles behind us.

Our little party of four cantered to meet this array. Now and then a horseman darted out from the line, and galloping round in a circle, threw his spear, and picked it up again while at full speed. As we approached they set up a song, but stopped when M? rode up to one of the aukÁl, or elders, and demanded a parley. There was a good deal of angry shouting at first, and the horsemen pressed round us in a dense mass, so that we could only extricate ourselves by drawing our revolvers. Seeing we really had some serious business on hand, one or two of the leading Ba-Gadabursi elders, prominent among whom was a well-known firebrand called Warsama DugÁl, entreated the horsemen to wait and hear what “the Government” had to say. M?, by the aid of his interpreter, quietly explained that if they would only put off the attack for a day he would try and settle the feud satisfactorily to both parties. While the interpreter was explaining this, M? asked me to try and bring out the thirty Sappers, to be ready on hand if required. I told Khoda Bux in HindustÁni, and, like the sporting PanjÁbi that he was, he was delighted with the errand, and kicking up his mule, he started off at a gallop. A Shirdone galloped in pursuit, shouting and brandishing his spear, but M? quickly headed him, and persuaded him to get back into the line and not make a fool of himself.

The elders, who had seen the force of my friend’s sensible argument from the first, soon quieted down the horsemen; while I rode off with Warsama DugÁl and persuaded the infantry to stop, for they were quietly creeping ahead among the sand-dunes. When they saw me riding on a kicking PanjÁbi mule, with a revolver which I had forgotten to put in its holster, and old Warsama in company excitedly yelling at them, they began to laugh, and good-naturedly squatted down on their heels, with the butts of their spears planted in the ground, glowering over their shields at a line of hillocks in front which hid the Boho from view. At their earnest request I allowed them to advance fifty yards to the top of the hillocks, “so that they might see the Boho.” They said they were thirsty, and the sight of the wells would do them good! The people told us that it was very hard being stopped in this way. They did not want to touch a hair of any white man’s head, they only wanted to wipe out the Boho. However, the elders agreed to send back the clan to Eil Sheikh, and themselves to come into BulhÁr with M? and see what they could do to settle the feud. The Sappers at last came into sight, and about a dozen of the elders accepted our escort to get them safely through the Boho lines. I extended my men, a section on either side, marching in single file, while M? and the elders rode bunched together in the space between. We passed the Boho line in this order, having first sent the interpreter on to explain. The Boho looked savagely at our protÉgÉs as we passed, but were too sensible to attack us for the sake of slitting the throats of a few elders, so not a horse was mounted and all went off quietly. Arrived in BulhÁr, my friend rode out with his interpreter and brought in the Boho elders. After two days’ talking the feud was settled for the time being, though it broke out again a week later, and gave M? an immense amount of anxiety and trouble. Twice my little party was called out in aid of the civil power, but not having to act in self-defence, we were able to keep the peace for a time without firing a shot. M? ordered the tribes to live apart, the Ba-Gadabursi fourteen miles to the west at Eil Sheikh, the Boho fifteen miles to the east at GÉri, and every few days or so he would persuade the elders to meet in BulhÁr for a conference. It was only a question of blood-money, but what a question! We always knew how things were going, for when the relations were strained the two semicircles of old men who were seated on the ground would shroud their faces in the ends of their tobes, only allowing a slit to look through, and they would add the supreme insult of shading their eyes with their hands; when things were improving they looked their enemies frankly in the face.

Soon after the cessation of hostilities at BulhÁr I was sent surveying up the Issutugan river with an escort of fifteen sabres of the Aden troop, a body of Indian cavalry which is permanently stationed at Khor Maksar, the outpost near Aden. This was my first exploring trip.

After this trip I returned to Aden to prepare for further explorations in the Habr Awal country, and at the end of December 1885 I arrived at BulhÁr with three sowars of the Aden troop, twelve mounted PanjÁbis, enlisted in Aden as policemen for this special purpose, and ten sepoys of the Bombay Infantry,—in all an escort of twenty-five men. Although we were ready to start the survey by 1st January, the BulhÁr tribes were in such a disturbed state that M?, finding it necessary to utilise whatever troops came to his hand, was obliged, in his official capacity in charge of BulhÁr, to ask me to remain, and to give him the benefit of the services of my escort till the tribes should become more settled.

The Shirdone feud had broken out again, and some of the Boho having managed to get into BulhÁr to buy food, the Ba-Gadabursi were reported to be coming in from Eil Sheikh to attack BulhÁr. M? sent out notice that if they did come in they would be fired at. One morning, while at breakfast, we received news that the Ba-Gadabursi were actually in sight, and advancing to the attack. I jumped on my pony and rode out alone into the plain to reconnoitre; and seeing that this was true, cantered into BulhÁr again, and on my way to M?’s quarters I called to the daffedar to turn out my fifteen mounted men. When M? and I came out again, both mounted, we found my police ready and in the saddle, attired rather curiously, for most of the men had only found time to put on their turbans, and had their cartridge belts strapped over whatever clothes they had worn when lounging about inside their huts.

As soon as we had got beyond BulhÁr we saw the Ba-Gadabursi advancing slowly over the plain, about seven hundred yards away, and reining in we fired a couple of rounds from the saddle, and returned the carbines to their buckets, then, drawing swords, we advanced at a gallop. The Ba-Gadabursi, of whom there were over a hundred mounted and about ten on foot, bolted at the first shots, and the horsemen were soon lost to sight in the haze of the Maritime Plain, while the men on foot, seeing themselves abandoned, tried to hide in the grass, but were all caught by my men and brought in as prisoners, only one being slightly wounded by a sword-point through the arm. With the men were brought in seventeen spears and some shields, which M? gave to the prisoners when he released them next day.

The Ba-Gadabursi were quiet for a week after this; and then, on another morning, a runner came to report that they were again coming in, in force, this time on foot. Our ponies had all been knocked up by scouting for hill raiders in the Selei direction on the previous day, so we called our available men out on foot. M? took command of the fifteen dismounted policemen, while I collected my own sepoys and an Infantry guard which was then stationed at BulhÁr; they amounted to about thirty rank and file, all belonging to the Bombay Infantry. While the Ba-Gadabursi were still quite a thousand yards away, M?, having drawn up the police along the sea-shore, gave the signal which we had agreed upon, firing two volleys at the distant line of a few hundred natives. They bolted at once, and I had a running skirmish with them for half an hour over two or three miles of grassy plain, after which we lost touch of them altogether. We found, however, some fifteen men hiding in the grass or diving about in the surf, and one wounded man, and brought them all in, with a collection of some thirty spears which had been thrown away in the retreat. Most of these were given back next day.

There was a lull after this, but on the following day half a dozen elders of the offending tribe came in and called upon M?, and we held a council with them outside his quarters, a large crowd of spectators coming from BulhÁr village to look on. The elders, led by Warsama DugÁl, explained that they had no quarrel with the Government, but only with the Boho. Their young men had, however, been boasting a good deal, not seeing why they should be kept out of BulhÁr, saying that they didn’t care for the Government, and would go in and burn the town. The elders had then given them Punch’s advice, “Don’t,” but they had not listened to it. “Now,” said the elders to M?, “you have fired upon our boys; that was bad of you, but next time they will listen to our advice.” After we had shaken hands cordially with them, for they were all personally known to us, they rode away to Eil Sheikh. The wounded man, who had only received a bullet through the foot, was put under medical treatment, and in a few days limped out to his tribe. Soon after the second skirmish M? brought the Boho and Ba-Gadabursi to a settlement, only to break out again some months later.

Meanwhile, on 1st February I was free to start for the interior on my survey trip. I had arranged to go in by So MidgÁn and Eil Ánod to the Interior Plains, and thence to strike through the Maritime Range to BulhÁr. My caravan consisted of eighteen Aden hill camels[18] with Arab drivers, seventeen sabres of Indian mounted police, and ten Bombay Infantry sepoys. We drove with us a small herd of Aden donkeys, so that the sepoys could either ride or pack their valises on them. We arrived at So MidgÁn, twenty-three miles from BulhÁr, at dusk, and next day we marched to Eil Ánod, ten miles farther. We expected to come upon the Habr Gerhajis tribe, which was supposed to be slightly hostile to the British, and was noted for raiding; and as we passed the spurs of the Sarar-awr (camel-back) plateau, on the way to Eil Ánod, we saw the tops of the hills white with sheep and lined with men, who were in a great state of alarm, shouting down at us. Later we found a karia with only a few women in it, who said all the men had run away, thinking we had come to loot them! Knowing mounted men cannot climb hills, they had taken the precaution to drive the flocks up, taking charge of them for the time being, and leaving the women to mind the rest of their property below.

We reassured these women, who then ran up and brought down the men, and after a short conference the flocks were driven into the plain again. The owners of the karia turned out to be a jilib or family of the Habr Gerhajis, and soon an intelligent-looking young man who had lost one leg came forward mounted on a pony and shook hands. He was Deria ShirÉ, the son of an important elder of the Habr Gerhajis tribe named ShirÉ ShirmÁki, whom I afterwards met and made great friends with during the elephant-hunting trip described in the last chapter. The latest news I have heard of Deria ShirÉ, who, although a well-mannered young man, is rather a scoundrel, was to the effect that two or three years ago he speared his old father in the leg, nearly killing him. I found him very polite, and he accompanied us to the wells, at the same time remarking that he had not the slightest knowledge why we had come, and that his tribe were very suspicious. No other white man had ever been to Eil Ánod before, and he did not quite see why we had come now.

We found a few men at the Eil Ánod wells, who received us with black looks, and we took possession of one of the old zerÍbas and put a sentry over a well, which was reserved for our own use. Deria ShirÉ left us, saying that he could not be responsible for what his tribe might do; we had come armed with guns and were strong, and he hoped we would leave him alone. Meanwhile, as we were pitching camp, my interpreter, Samanter, went down to the wells and got into conversation with some of the tribesmen who were lounging there. He came back to me in a great state of excitement, saying he had reliable information that we were to be attacked that night, and that I was to make a strong zerÍba, and not leave camp myself nor allow any of the men to do so.

There was plenty of game in the Eil Ánod plain, and as I thought, if I followed Samanter’s advice, the Habr Gerhajis would only be strengthened in their belief that we meant harm to them, I decided to fortify the zerÍba, and leaving fifteen men inside, to sally out myself with the ten others, and beat the jungle for game. We made a circuit of the bush within two miles of camp, firing at the tiny SakÁro antelopes and hares, and getting a mixed bag of three hares and six antelopes. At dusk, carrying our game, we returned to the zerÍba, on the way passing a large tree where about a hundred and fifty men were collected, all having their spears with them, and a few saddled ponies were grazing round the tree. These people took no further notice than to scowl at us as we passed.

After we had reached the zerÍba I came out again with two sepoys and the interpreter, and walking up to the tree where the tribesmen were collected, I called out “Salaam aleikum” (Peace be with you). There was no answer for some time, and then an old man with a white beard and a wicked-looking, clean-shaven skull, treated me to a surly stare and mumbled; “Salaam.” Then he looked down and spat on the ground, and began absent-mindedly scratching the earth with a bit of stick, and then smoothing out the marks with his hands. The rest of the crowd remained silent, all looking sulky and mischievous. Some were gazing at us with a rude stare, others were shading their eyes with their hands, or hiding behind their tobes. My interpreter harangued them, asking why I was received so coldly by the tribe. There was a long pause till two old men cleared their throats and looked at each other, and without rising one of them spoke. “Warya ninki Frinji” (I say, foreigner) was the beginning of his speech, and it was translated into HindustÁni by Samanter as the old man went on.

The gist of his remarks was that the tribesmen wanted to know why I had brought all these soldiers into the Habr Gerhajis country, and whether we had come to steal cattle, for if so, we had better go back again, as they had none. There was plenty of cattle among the other tribes.

We had come, my interpreter said, on a peaceful mission, to report upon the trade routes, and to ascertain whether they were safe for caravans coming to trade in Berbera and BulhÁr. There was a good deal of loud discussion among the assembled men, and then the old man who had first spoken, becoming more friendly, said that he and his tribe knew nothing about the looting of caravans. He accused all the sub-tribes around of looting, but said the Abdul IshÁk never looted, and I was to tell the Government. At that time the Abdul IshÁk, Habr Gerhajis, were well known as the most persistent looters of caravans, but I promised to convey the message to the authorities, and made the old man happy. Peace was now restored, and we spent a quiet night, the Abdul IshÁk sending us several vessels of milk; and in the morning we parted amicably, and continued our trip, eventually reaching Berbera.

This incident at Eil Ánod, only thirty miles from the coast, shows how little Europeans were trusted or known in the early days of the British Protectorate. Many shooting parties have been through the Habr Awal and Habr Gerhajis countries of late years, but at that time the country was quite unexplored, even close to the coast.

About a month after the Eil Ánod incident we set out from Berbera on another trip, this time going to Mandeira, and thence up the JerÁto Pass to Syk, in the high Ogo country.

I heard that the KÁsin IshÁk, a clan of the Habr Gerhajis, were at Syk, and expected trouble; but when we reached the Syk fig-tree we found only a few of the elders, who said that they had received a good report of us from the Abdul IshÁk clan, which had met us on the former journey at Eil Ánod, and so they had been waiting to receive us hospitably. I had left my camp at Mandeira, about fifteen hundred feet below, and had come up the JerÁto Pass with seven troopers as an escort. On reaching Berbera we marched to BulhÁr along the coast track, and on 26th April we made another exploring trip to the Interior Plains, returning at the end of it to Berbera and thence to Aden, where I completed my map of the Habr Awal country for Government.

In the following autumn, although not actually sent on duty, I obtained six weeks’ leave to SomÁliland, on condition I would do a map of my route for Government. I was very anxious to go to Zeila and make an exploration through the Gadabursi hills, coming out at the coast again at BulhÁr. So far the hills between Zeila and BulhÁr had been quite unknown. On this trip I was in company with three friends, two of whom, finding the game scarce, soon returned to Zeila. I held on, however, and we struck without guides through the mountains, finally reaching DÍmis, near BulhÁr, having traversed the last sixty miles with only three pints of water per man. This caused some suffering from thirst, which the men were able to partly alleviate at Eil Sheikh by jumping into the sea and moistening their skins. One pony died from the effects of this march the day after we reached BulhÁr.

We had timed our trip at a bad season for game, and the only satisfaction which I got for fitting out a very expensive expedition, and for a good deal of hardship, was a map of hitherto unexplored country.

In 1887 I made the two big game trips recorded in the last chapter, and in 1889 a short shooting trip to GÓlis, which was of minor importance. In 1891 I was ordered to place myself at the disposal of the Resident at Aden in order to reconnoitre the trade routes in the Dolbahanta, Habr Toljaala, Jibril Abokr, Esa, and Gadabursi countries. My brother, Lieut. (now Captain) E. J. E. Swayne, 16th Bengal Infantry, whom I will call E?, was deputed to assist in the survey, and joined me at Calcutta as I passed through that place on my way from Mandalay to Aden. We reached the SomÁli coast in February, and started with thirty-two SomÁlis and one Madras “boy.” There were twenty-six baggage camels, and we each rode a camel led by a SomÁli at walking pace. Going by DubÁr and Sheikh, we arrived after eleven days at Alla-uli, a watering-place in a narrow valley just behind the crest of the highest bluffs of the GÓlis Range, at an elevation of six thousand feet above sea-level.

On the following day, after establishing a small camp on the top of Fodwein Bluff, we chose our theodolite station within a short distance of the edge of Fodwein, which falls several hundred feet sheer to the Mirso ledge below. This was the first of a long chain of stations for fixing the main positions on our route, by observations of the stars for azimuth and latitude, with a six-inch transit theodolite.

We remained here four days, and obtained a good azimuth on to a point on a small hill called Yirrowa, fifty-five miles away to the east of south, on the main route to the Dolbahanta country. Looking towards Yirrowa from the top of GÓlis we could see only one immense expanse of dark brown bush, becoming quite blue in the distance and looking like a sea-horizon, broken only by the small hill Yirrowa, and a long, light blue line, dancing high above the horizon in the heat haze and mirage, which indicated the Bur Dab Range, two days’ march beyond Yirrowa.

The whole of the country ahead was unmapped, the first European caravans to go so far south being those of Colonel Paget to the south-west of us, and of Mr. Clarke, which had gone to the interior a few days before towards the south-east. Eventually, however, we left both these caravans far to the west.

From our elevated position, which was now 6800 feet above the sea, we had a fine view of the Maritime Ranges and Berbera Plain, and we obtained a back azimuth on the Berbera Masjid tower, thirty-five miles distant. It was very cold at night, the thermometer going down to 58°, with a chilling drizzle and clouds of mist which often enveloped us, making observations impossible.

On the 22nd we marched back to Upper Sheikh, and while we were camped near the graves at night, the mullahs from Guldu Hamed ran to us crying that looters were coming down on us. Men were seen running by, who said they were Habr Gerhajis, and that their cattle had been lifted by a neighbouring tribe. We remained under arms for a while and then turned in. Next morning it transpired that the camels had only been allowed to stray, and had afterwards been found.

We marched six miles to Dubbur, the last water before we should reach BÉr, about sixty miles farther, and filled up our casks. Now we entered the great wooded and undulating waterless plains, crossing the Habr Toljaala boundary soon after leaving Dubbur, and always holding south-east. On the east a long low range of hills shut in the view, but west and south of us was one immense forest of small thorn-trees, except on the margin of the sand-rivers, where some of the gudÁ thorn-trees reached a height of fifty or sixty feet. In a river-bed, called GoitÉ, horsemen of the Habr Gerhajis, from Bur’o, came to hold a mounted parade in our honour.

On 27th February we reached Yirrowa, and chose another theodolite station. There were several curious flat hillocks and cairns of stones, called Taalla GÁlla, perched about the corners of the Yirrowa Hill, and here we got an azimuth on to Bur Dab Range, still blue in the distance.

At a thickly wooded pasture called BÉr, five miles farther, in the valley of Tug DÉr, we found water at a depth of ten feet in twelve wells. Very heavy floods sometimes come down this valley, as can be seen by the large trunks of trees everywhere stranded along the cut banks of the watercourse, which is at places one hundred and fifty yards broad. The Tug DÉr freshets, coming from Bur’o, pass east into the Nogal Valley, and so to the Indian Ocean.

We were told that there were always from fifty to five hundred robbers in the Bur Dab Range, and passing caravans were often looted. It has been the custom of these robbers, who belong to the Mahamud GerÁd, Saad Yunis, and MÚsa Abokr tribes living near the coast farther east, to loot across this BÉr Plain every year, going right up to Guldu Hamed. When raiding they only water their ponies once in three or four days. Near BÉr we found tracks of forty horsemen, and ascertained that they were those of a Dolbahanta force, which a month before had gone to loot the Habr Gerhajis pastures at Bur’o, but had been driven back, losing three ponies.

Several very ragged-looking SomÁlis, with the usual spears and shield, came into camp and insisted on being fed; they had gone to Bur Dab to recover some camels looted from them three days before, but on reaching the mountain they had first seen vultures hovering about, and had then discovered the robbers in great force sitting over a feast of the carcases of the stolen camels; and being afraid to attack, they had returned disheartened, hungry, thirsty, and tired. They told us that Colonel Paget and his brother had their camp near Wadama-go, ahead of us, where they were shooting lions. The Pagets had already had one sharp skirmish with Bur Dab robbers, being obliged, we heard, to use their rifles freely in self-defence.

We reached Kirrit well, near Wadama-go, on 3rd March. There were numbers of old graves here, and the well, supposed to have been dug out of the gypsum rock by ancient GÁllas, is very curious. At the mouth it is a hole twenty feet in diameter, narrowing as it descends, with a rude cross quarried out of the face. To get water, one has to descend twenty feet, and then crawl along a narrow rocky passage for thirty feet to a very deep pool, six feet wide and thirty feet long. It is quite dark, and there is a strong smell of sulphuretted hydrogen, with which the water is impregnated from the gypsum rock. The water is disagreeable to drink, and causes diarrhoea. Robbers from Bur Dab often use this well when on their raids. The gypsum rock is very smooth and white, and in some places presents the appearance of the flagstone flooring of a cathedral, being split up into squares. The graves, which are made of these rocks, are generally plastered over with powdered gypsum.

Next day we marched across a broad tributary valley of the Nogal to a flat-topped hill called Daba DalÓl, eight miles to the east. We crossed the tracks of Colonel Paget’s caravan, and the next day we received a note from him concerning some robbers whom he had taken prisoners.

Near Daba DalÓl was a mullah’s village named Kob-FardÓd, with a little cultivation. These people told us that the Mahamud GerÁd were out against the Arasama, another sub-tribe of the Dolbahanta, and that there had been a fight, two days’ march ahead on our route.

Next day we had a scare among the camelmen. At noon, while the camels and horses were watering at the well, two miles from camp, under a weak guard of three riflemen, one of them ran in to say they had been attacked and the camels looted. E? went out with a portion of our escort to search for the missing camels; but they had only gone half a mile when fifteen horsemen, the supposed enemy, cantered up and shouted that they were Arasama, and that they had come three days’ march to welcome us into the Dolbahanta country. They told us that more than a dozen caravans were in their country, afraid to go to Berbera on account of the Mahamud GerÁd. One caravan had even gone round to Berbera by way of the Haud, preferring to go through waterless country and to carry ten days’ water on the camels, rather than run the risk of being looted. They also declared that we were the first Europeans in this country, and denied all knowledge of some Italians who were reported to have already come to Bur Dab. Here we met gum-pickers, wandering about the jungle, collecting gum in sacks. They seemed very poor, with old and rotten tobes.

The Arasama, to whom we had given presents at Daba-DalÓl, followed us through the Ain valley, giving great annoyance by loud-voiced demands for more. Wherever we halted we were at once surrounded by a crowd of elders, clamouring for tobes. They were dragged from hand to hand, with a chorus of angry shouts, the bald-headed old chiefs looking like human vultures.

We halted at a steep, flat-topped hill called Kabr OgÁdÉn, or the OgÁdÉn graves, where a great OgÁdÉn army once perished at the hands of the Dolbahanta. The whole country was dotted with GÁlla cairns, one of these curious structures being visible on every hill-top. From the summit of the hill we got a splendid view of the broad Nogal Valley, and chose our theodolite station at a GÁlla cairn on the highest point.

Next day, followed by the Arasama headmen, still clamouring for tobes, we marched to their great watering-place, Eil Dab (rocky well). The tribe was here in strength, with enormous droves of camels and ponies and flocks of sheep. For a mile round the wells there were clouds of dust, kicked up by the thirsty animals. The water in the wells, which are caves in gypsum rock, was very foul. Vulturine guinea-fowl abounded. We marched due south, crossing to the south side of the Nogal, but we could not shake off the Arasama, who followed us on their ponies, continually demanding presents and refusing to be satisfied with what we gave. One old chief presented us with a sheep, but not liking my return present of two tobes, he crept into our zerÍba at night and stole his sheep back, while a friend of his engaged the attention of our sentry.

At our Biyo Ado camp more elders from other tribes joined the Arasama, and while E? and I were up the hill with the theodolite, they issued forth and looted some camels of the Allegiri tribe which were seen passing four miles out on the plain. They also took three men prisoners, but we eventually forced them to release both camels and prisoners. The Allegiri brought us news of a fight between the Arasama and Barkad GerÁd on one side and Mahamud GerÁd on the other, in which the latter were successful.

Next day, while we were away watering our ponies, the Arasama issued from our camp, and chasing two Allegiri, whom they had seen from the hill, they brought them in as hostages for exchange with some looted camels. Finding the prisoners on our return we released them, and after turning all the Arasama elders neck and crop out of camp, we gave out that we intended to be friends with all tribes and would not be mixed up in their quarrels.

Followed by a large number of avaricious elders, we marched north-east to Badwein, where we found more wells, and a large tank of water, four hundred yards in circumference, with perpendicular sides forty feet deep, supposed to have been excavated in the limestone rocks by ancient GÁllas; but the water was utterly unfit for human consumption. Ruins, which rise half smothered from among a tangle of aloes and thorn jungle close by, cover an area of forty thousand square yards, and in some of the houses the walls are still ten feet high. E? rode into a large house or temple, to find it two hundred feet long and one hundred feet wide, divided by a number of partition walls. They are built of limestone and very much decomposed by rains, and are supposed to be the work of the GÁllas, but no one knows who built them. Some of the SomÁlis say they date back to the time of some race before the GÁllas. The people at Badwein had just come from Gosaweina, driven from there through fear of the Mahamud GerÁd, and we were assured we would most certainly be attacked by that tribe if we held to our determination of going to Gosaweina. We were further told that the plains were very open and the horsemen “as numerous as the sand,” and that some years ago a force of natives armed with one hundred matchlocks had been completely wiped out there by a night attack.

Marching eastward, we soon entered the open grass plains, where we saw the smouldering zerÍbas of the Arasama and Barkad GerÁd sub-tribes, which had fled before the Mahamud GerÁd. The next day we held across the open plains to Gosaweina, and scarcely had we started when a party of horsemen was seen halted on some low hills to the north! We, however, kept straight on, and the horsemen, constantly increasing in numbers, followed us, moving parallel to us on the higher ground.

Without halting the camels, we whistled the men up and they formed line, and moved out to protect the caravan. The horsemen came towards us at a gallop, but pulled up on our running with a few men towards them. On getting up to them my men were greatly relieved in their minds to find that instead of the terrible Mahamud GerÁd, they were a detachment of the Arasama and Barkad GerÁd, who had been out protecting their flocks and herds at Eil Dab and Badwein by scouting for the Mahamud GerÁd. They followed us to Gosaweina, clamouring for cloth, and hobbling their horses, they made a bivouac on the plain with us at night. We did not light fires, not wishing to attract the Mahamud GerÁd. The horsemen told us that rain had fallen in the plain to the north of us, below Bur Dab, and that at Waredad there was a pool full of water.

We had now mapped the Dolbahanta country to the head of the Nogal Valley, and the time had arrived for our return to the coast.[19] We ran the gauntlet of the begging Arasama elders back to Eil Dab, and then struck due south, crossing Bur Dab Range by a pass called Laba Gardai, which descended into the Waredad Plain below. While we were in camp at Eil Dab some of our escort, losing patience, began firing with blank cartridge at the excited mob of Arasama who were pressing round camp demanding tobes. The elders brought in what they declared to be a wounded man, and made the occurrence the text for a further demand that we should pay blood-money or fight the tribe; but we found it was only an old half-healed scar, and laughed at them.

A trading caravan, anxious to go to Berbera, but fearing the robbers who infest Bur Dab, took advantage of our protection for the next few days. In this caravan the women were to the men as six to one, and had it been attacked when alone it would have fallen an easy prey to a small party of raiders. To place so much valuable property almost entirely in the charge of defenceless women is putting temptation in the way of the robber bands, and often the owners have only themselves to blame.

We reached ArregÉd, a deep ravine in the middle of the Bur Dab Range, and during the night two men were seen skulking in the bush near camp. On the 20th, taking three men and a theodolite, I ascended Bur Dab, and choosing a station for star observations, spent the night on the top of the hill. In the morning before descending to camp we explored the interior of the range, and found that all the plateaux of which it was formed dropped sheer down into a large basin seamed by watercourses and tunnelled everywhere by caves. The regularity of the strata and their water-worn appearance led us to believe Bur Dab to be composed of stratified limestone rock, and not a volcano, as stated by some Italian travellers. Possibly they confounded Bur Dab and Bur DÁb, the former meaning “rocky hill,” and the latter “hill of fire.” The caves inside afford a secure retreat for robbers, who, indeed, are said never to leave the mountain.

On going down to camp I found that E? and his own followers had been kept on the alert throughout the night by men prowling round them. They were distinctly visible in the moonlight, but E? would allow no firing, as they made off whenever he went out to see who they were. On our return to Berbera we heard that fifty robbers had reconnoitred our ArregÉd camp, and had made off westward for Kirrit, thinking we had come to Bur Dab to look for them. For having been severely handled in their attack on Colonel Paget’s party, they did not care to come into collision with Europeans again. Further native information was given us regarding this attack, it being reported to us that the robbers had lost three killed and ten wounded. As we did not actually visit Colonel Paget’s camp, however, we could hear no reliable account of what happened.

Marching through the Habr Toljaala country, we reached the eastern continuation of GÓlis Range and descended by the Huguf Pass. Near Huguf we divided our caravan into two parts; I marched to Berbera via Karam, while E? ascended Wagar Mountain, two days’ march to the west of Huguf, to take observations. He marched over very steep and rolling ground, gradually ascending, and then through a narrow gorge to Sisai, at the back of Wagar. Sisai is a grassy hollow between the two principal peaks of Wagar, which are called by different names, the peak to the east being BakÁwa, and the one to the west, and highest, TawÁwur (nearly seven thousand feet). Everywhere the hills are clothed with thick vegetation, and the grass is succulent and green, and many fat cattle of the Mahomed Esa were seen. The trees are chiefly mountain cedar and hassÁdan, a kind of euphorbia, affording a dense shade. The party ascended TawÁwur from Sisai by a good path, passing through heavy timber of cedar and hassÁdan, the soil everywhere being hidden by the rich vegetation. About half-way up the party reached a long glade of green grass two feet high, which wetted them to the knees as they walked through it. At the side of this glade the cedar-trees were straight, and starting with a girth of from ten to fifteen feet, rose to a height of ninety to one hundred feet, the hassÁdan trees also attaining a height of about seventy feet. Opening out from this glade in all directions were excellent paths through the forest made by elephants, and plunging into one of them, they reached the top of TawÁwur. They climbed on to an enormous boulder capping the top. Looking over a vast expanse of white clouds, they waited for them to clear away, but after four hours a dense fog came up and necessitated a retreat. E? saw countless varieties of birds, and heard the voice of a panther come up from the valley below, and at times koodoo antelopes could be heard crashing through the jungle as the party advanced. About thirty varieties of flowers were gathered, of great beauty.

E? made two ascents of TawÁwur and one of BakÁwa, and working down the spurs of BergÉli, he reached camp at Asseil. It was very cold at night at Sisai, and the temperature throughout the day was 70°, except at noon, when it rose to 78° Fahr. E? then descended again with his caravan to the plain below Huguf, and marching to the coast, reached Berbera a few days before I arrived by the coast route from Karam.

The expedition to the Dolbahanta country was followed by a second to the Jibril Abokr sub-tribe of the Habr Awal, living in the hills north-west of Hargeisa and in the open plains near the Harar border. We took twenty-three men, of whom sixteen carried rifles, and there were twenty-four camels. The caravan left Berbera on 21st May, going south-west. We made a moonlight march to NasÍya tree in the Maritime Plain. Next day we came upon an immense cloud of locusts, which were seen daily till the 26th,[20] often darkening the sky.

On the 28th we ascended a plateau just under the crest of GÁn Libah,[21] which is the farthest west of the GÓlis bluffs, and a most conspicuous landmark; and it was on the highest point of GÁn Libah, at an elevation of six thousand feet, that we chose our theodolite station. We climbed the mountain to a point some four miles south of the edge of the bluff, and camped; and next morning I made an exploration through the cedar forests to the highest point, from which the whole of the low country to the north can be seen, including Berbera and BulhÁr. I found, however, that owing to the steep nature of the ground, it would be impossible to get the theodolite uninjured to the station which we had chosen. We subsequently found the three points, Berbera, BulhÁr, and GÁn Libah, very nearly formed an equilateral triangle, with a side of about forty-two miles.

The distance covered by the exploration was only eight miles, but it occupied five hours, as the mountain was fearfully cut up by deep ravines, while the high trees, growing close together and festooned with creepers, thoroughly obstructed the path. At the edge of the bluffs are cliffs on every side, and a beautiful jungle with a great variety of flowers and plants, especially nastertians, maiden-hair fern, and mosses. We struck camp and made for the lower plateau, losing ourselves among a network of steep ravines, but eventually we reached a plain from which stood out a rounded rock called Dagah KaburÁleh, and we camped in a grassy hollow at its foot.

Later on we struck south through the khansa jungle to BÉr in Khansa. E? saw a lioness, but she bounded into the long grass before he had a chance of getting a shot at her. Leaving him at the BÉr camp, I made a reconnaissance into the open prairie of Toyo, sleeping out two nights without a tent, and shooting for the first time two hartebeests, which were afterwards found to be new to science, and being submitted to Dr. Sclater, Secretary of the London Zoological Society, they were described, and named Swayne’s Hartebeests (Bubalis swaynei). Returning to BÉr, and finding E? had gone, I followed in his tracks, and halted for the night at a pasture called TalÁwa-yÉr, among the karias of the KÁsin IshÁk, Habr Gerhajis. As I was riding ahead of the caravan, towards sunset, looking out for a dead tree near which to camp, and so save labour in collecting firewood, some karia people came running to report that a panther had just struck down a goat, and had then been driven off by the herdboys. I ordered the men to pitch camp and walked over to the body of the goat. We built a screen of boughs two feet high, taking ten minutes over the work, and then, with the setting sun scorching our backs, I sat down with my two hunters behind the screen, and only five yards from the goat. Several men, who had helped us to make the brushwood screen, then walked away towards camp, purposely talking aloud to lead the brute to suppose we had all gone together; and while they were yet only a hundred yards away I looked towards the goat and saw the panther was standing over it, his tail towards me. I fired, and hit him high on the left side, the bullet raking forward, and he rolled over, and looking under the smoke I finished him with a second shot as he lay twisting and growling in the grass; and we carried him to camp and skinned him by firelight. This was the first panther I had ever bagged, though I had seen many. At dawn I continued the march, and arrived at my brother’s halting-place before noon.

We made several marches westward, and on 8th June we reached Hargeisa. This town is built some five hundred yards from the right bank of the AleyadÉra nala,[22] and at an elevation of thirty or forty feet above it. Round the place is a patch of jowÁri cultivation (Holcus sorghum), two and a half miles long and a quarter of a mile broad. Quantities of live stock of all kinds graze on the low undulating hills for half a mile from the AleyadÉra nala on either bank. Hargeisa is situated on two important caravan routes, one from OgÁdÉn and the other from Harar. There are good direct camel roads to Berbera and BulhÁr. Supplies of rice, tobacco, and dates can sometimes be bought here in the trading season. Some four hundred people are employed looking after the jowÁri fields, and can be seen sitting on platforms, shouting and throwing stones to scare away the birds from the crops. There is abundance of good water in the bed of the river, and a masonry well has been built, and is kept in order by an Arab from Aden. The town is full of blind and lame people, who are under the protection of Sheikh Mattar and his mullahs. The soil is red alluvial earth with a thin layer of fine sand on the top, and it is not better than that which we had seen in the Tug DÉr valley, at BÉr, and in the Haud. JowÁri crops flourish here as they would in most of the higher tracts of SomÁliland, if the people were not in a chronic state of petty warfare, and cared to cultivate.

At the time of our visit great anxiety was felt because the Abyssinians occupying Harar had threatened to attack Hargeisa, and had already exacted tribute of cattle from some clans of the Jibril Abokr, Habr Awal. Sheikh Mattar told us that he thought if the Abyssinians came down they would choose the time of the harvest, six weeks later.

From Hargeisa we continued our journey westwards, camping at AbbÁrso. Our tents were pitched five yards apart at this camp, and as I was sitting outside in the balmy air, enjoying the quiet moonlight scene, I observed a panther crouching under the outer fly of E?’s tent, evidently stalking something in the centre of the camp. Diving quickly into my own tent for a loaded rifle, I came out again, only to find the panther had sprung into the centre of camp and seized a milk goat. There had been a crowd of men sleeping round the goat, and to get at it he had leaped over them, placing his paw upon the face of my brother’s cook, without, however, injuring him. On the sentry running towards him with the butt of his Snider rifle raised to strike, the brute dropped the goat and discreetly sprang over some more men and out of the zerÍba, and then sneaked away. The same goat was killed by another panther springing into camp a few nights later.

We separated our caravans on 14th June, meeting again at UjawÁji on the 17th, among the karias of the Rer Yunis Jibril, Jibril Abokr. The great subject of conversation among the natives here was the expected approach of an Abyssinian force, mounted scouts having been thrown out by the tribes, and news coming in daily.

Near UjawÁji the country gradually became more grassy and open, the thorn bushes being only thinly scattered about the plain. We passed a tree called “Mattan,” and two miles beyond this tree, which was a conspicuous landmark, a long hazy yellow line marked the commencement of the ban or open grass plain, which is called the Marar Prairie. It was first crossed by Burton, and is mentioned in First Footsteps in East Africa. A conspicuous rock, called “Moga Medir,” or “Jifa Medir” (Moga’s eye-tooth of Burton), lay ten miles to the west of us on the edge of the bush. On the evening of our arrival at UjawÁji we went out to shoot some hartebeests to provide meat for the men. As we left camp the bushes gave place to low scrub, and this presently ended also. Then a curious scene presented itself to us. As far as the eye could reach was an unbroken plain of rolling yellow grass, rising gradually towards the north, and bounded twenty miles off in that direction by a waving blue line of hills running along the horizon, and here and there disappearing below it.

The plains were covered with the camels and ponies of the Rer Dollol and Rer Yunis Jibril sub-tribes, the number of animals giving one the idea of a swarm of young locusts moving over the ground. Everything showed up dark against the background of yellow grass; and single bull hartebeests, knee-deep in grass, were seen wandering about between the droves of camels, looking like black dots in the distance. Beyond the masses of domestic animals we could see, far out on the plains, long dark lines, which, by using the glasses, we made out to be vast herds of hartebeests, oryx, and Soemmering’s gazelles. The rich soil, of a reddish brown colour, is here and there undermined by burrowing animals and caved in, making galloping dangerous. The white ants had built up the earth into ant-hills, whose spires, from ten to twenty feet high, were dotted over the plain. We shot two hartebeests, both good bulls, and returned to camp with the meat and trophies, being caught by a heavy downpour of rain on the way.

Early next morning we had to witness a great equestrian display by the Rer Dollol and Yunis Jibril horsemen, given in our honour. After the dibÁltig they told us there had been fighting at some wells near us the day before, the Gadabursi having attacked them from the west, killing one man and wounding another; and also that an elephant had been killed, not far away, by MidgÁns, with poisoned arrows.

We had promised the Jibril Abokr that we would wait at UjawÁji to hear further news of the Abyssinians, and to record the complaints of the elders, for submission to Government; meanwhile, having been told by the horsemen in the morning that lions were numerous in the Jifa bush, we resolved to go and look for them there, taking the camp with us. The Jibril Abokr lent us horsemen to help us search for lion tracks, and we started ahead of the caravan, sitting on camels which were led by our gunbearers.

We got away from camp late in the morning, and besides the men we had engaged, we were followed by a crowd of horsemen, who were anxious to witness our shooting, and to come in for a share of any venison we might obtain on the plains between UjawÁji and Jifa. Soon we found ourselves out in the open, masses of game giving way before us as we advanced. The size of the party prevented our coming within close range, but we wounded a bull hartebeest, and E?, mounting one of the SomÁli ponies, gave chase, with an Indian hog-spear in his hand. The hartebeest is known to be the most enduring of the antelopes, having a long and untiring stride, and though E? circled round the horizon, followed by two horsemen, at a great pace, it gradually increased its distance, and finally disappeared into one of the great wave-like dips of the ground.

Presently a party of horsemen appeared galloping towards us, now and then hidden by the rolling ground, and arriving in front of our party they circled their ponies, and giving the complimentary “MÓt!” they came up and shook hands. They informed us that they had marked down three lions in the grass, on the open plain, eight miles away in the Jifa direction; and they assured us the lions would be found in the same place, as six horsemen had been placed to form a cordon round them, and they would be afraid to move from the shelter of a patch of rather high grass. The men said that these lions must have been living within the edge of the Jifa bush, prowling out on the great plains at night in order to stalk the herds of antelopes, and that they must have killed something the night before, and being gorged and lazy, the break of day had caught them while still in the open, on their way back to the bush to lie up for the day. These horsemen had been on their way to UjawÁji from Jifa to perform the dibÁltig at our camp, but seeing the lions, and knowing that we were keen to get at them, they had circled them in, and compelled them to sit down on the plain and wait for us. Posting six vedettes, they had then come to give us the news.

It was now about one o’clock and very hot, but we pressed on, resisting all temptation to fire at any of the game around us for fear of disturbing the lions; for a shot can be heard at a great distance on these plains. Towards four o’clock we saw one of the vedettes looming out of the haze, and then another. It was, however, a long time before we could make out the lions, which these men were trying to point out to us. They were five hundred yards away, trying to take shelter from the pitiless sun in a patch of grass about two feet high; all we could see being two indistinct dark spots half hidden in grass, and on one of these moving slightly, we recognised it to be the head of a remarkably fine lion. Beyond the lions, more than half a mile away, was another horseman, sitting motionless in the saddle, and looking like a waving palm-tree, the horse’s legs appearing to be elongated in the haze and mirage.

The SomÁlis who had been watching the brutes said they had been in this spot all day, getting up to roar now and then, but, knowing by experience the powers of the SomÁli horsemen in the open, they had not attempted to make a bolt of it towards the distant bush, which loomed up in a quivering blue line some ten miles to the north of us. Considering the heat of the sun, and that they had neither food nor water, these horsemen had stuck to the lions with great perseverance, and we felt that we owed it to them to crown their hard work by straight shooting.

We guessed that the brutes must be in an uncommonly bad temper after having been kept out in the full glare of the sun for ten hours; for lions like to sleep under the shade of dense bush during the heat of the day. The grass in this part of the plain was fresh and green, and looked almost like an English lawn, there having been rain about three weeks before. We dismounted, and my brother and I, each accompanied by one SomÁli, walked towards the lions.

The account of what followed is taken partly from what I saw, and partly from E?’s verbal description; for, being unconscious part of the time, I was not in a condition to know all that passed.

As we approached within two hundred and fifty yards there was a commotion in the grass—a fine black-maned lion sprang out, and was immediately followed by another, nearly as large, but with a yellow mane. They both stood up and looked back at us for a moment and then trotted away. We walked after them, hoping they would lie down again; but as we passed to the right of the patch of grass where they had been lying, and at about a hundred yards’ distance from it, I saw a lioness stretched out flat, with her head between her paws. She was facing us, and as we passed her she rose for a moment, and then glanced towards the retreating lions, but she crouched down again, her head just visible above the grass, and never ceased growling savagely. We went straight on at the same pace, till we were between her and the line of retreat. She was growling louder and louder, and I walked across her front to get a chance at her left shoulder, while E? stood ready, when she rose, to fire at her chest. We stood seventy yards apart, the lioness being seventy yards from each of us, our three positions thus forming an equilateral triangle. The lioness moved, and E?, calling out that he could see her chest, immediately fired.

The bullet hit her too high, and, as we afterwards found out, in the withers clear of the spine, the wound causing her to spin round like a top several times in a cloud of red dust, as if hunting her own tail, so that I could see nothing to fire at. From the disturbance in the grass and the savage growls, we decided she must be mortally hit, and were preparing to walk up to her, when suddenly from the obscuring dust she came out, charging for me at full speed. She ran extended along the ground, like a greyhound, and came so fast that I had only time to raise my rifle, and when the bead of the foresight was somewhere under her chin, I fired. Quickly shifting my finger to the left trigger when she was only five yards away, I pulled again, and then jumped to one side, the rifle still at my shoulder. I remember nothing more, except that her head came through the smoke and I was half conscious of being lifted off my feet and sent flying through the air, with the lioness hanging on to my shoulder, growling horribly!

On coming to, I found that I was standing up streaming with blood, and E? and the two hunters were helping me off with my shirt, the lioness lying dead on the grass at my feet. There were eight deep fang wounds in my right arm and shoulder.[23] My brother probed them with a bit of stick wrapped in a shred of tobe; and then we looked around for the lions, and saw that they were no longer visible; but E? said that all the horsemen had followed them, intending to ride them to a standstill and force them to come to bay.

My wounds, owing probably to the severe shock and weakness from loss of blood, gave me no pain, and when a SomÁli came galloping back and offered my brother a pony, saying that the lions had come to a standstill, I begged him not to bother, but to try and bag the big black one. I remember hearing E? gallop away, and then I must have fainted.

When I came to again, I saw my hunter, JÁma, sitting near me on the body of the lioness, unconcernedly scrubbing his teeth with a bit of athei stick, which he must have brought from UjawÁji. He said he had been waiting for me to wake, and to tell him what was to be done next. The other “Sahib” had gone away, but JÁma had heard a very distant shot, and concluded he must have come up with the lions again. But he advised me to wait for the caravan, which he could see coming over the plain from the east, and mount a camel before trying to go any farther.

When it came up, all the men crowded round, with horror on their faces, and asked which of the Sahibs had been killed, but I got up and said, “Neither,” and mounting a camel, directed the camelman to follow the hoof-marks of the ponies in the turf. How I managed to sit on the camel in my weak and dazed condition, I do not know. I must have dozed, for the next thing I saw was a group of dismounted horsemen in front of my camel, and my brother standing over the most splendid black-maned lion I have ever seen.

Jungle of “Hig” Aloes and “Guda” Thorn-Trees.

Henweina Valley, GÁn-Libah Mountain in the distance. (From Photograph by the Author.)