THE BEAUTIFUL VALLEY OF THE DAWA. 
157 
Before crossing, I had taken leave of my good Afgab 
guide who had led us all the way from Bari. He started 
off in the night-time, carrying strings of dried meat and a 
vessel of water to last him on his long journey, and did 
not seem in the least afraid of travelling in the dark, 
armed with spear alone, although he had to pass through 
a country where there were many lions. He expected to 
travel forty miles every night, lying concealed in the 
daytime among the bushes. As he had done so well 
for me, I loaded him down with presents, and gave him 
also a letter bearing testimony to his character as a guide, 
so that he might be useful to future travellers in this 
country. 
Once across the Jub, I felt that the strain I had been 
under for three months, to keep the caravan together, was 
removed ; there was no more fear now of the Abyssin- 
lans, as they had never got so far south, and my men 
had mostly recovered from the fever, and were too far 
away to think any more of their homes. We had all 
settled down contentedly to camp life, my boys singing 
merrily as they worked, and indulging in all kinds of 
games and sports during spare moments. I would occa- 
sionally allow them to go shooting on their own account, 
so as to get them accustomed to the rifle, and many of 
them became fairly good marksmen. 
After resting a day, we made a short march of an hour 
and a half to some villages on the river Dawa,’ called 
Warwai. The Dawa runs through a beautiful fertile 
plain, nearly a mile wide, containing a number of palm- 
trees of various sorts, as well as a charming variety of 
other trees and bushes. About its banks are many small 
1 We found the stream to be forty yards wide here, and from three to four 
and a half feet deep. This was not the rainy season, so I take it that my 
measurements of the Ganana and Dawa give a fair idea of the average magni- 
tude of the rivers during the year. 
