SFOI^ T IN ABYSSINIA. 1 97 



I shot a large bare-necked vulture, which was hovering 

 over the camp last evening, and I am writing my 

 journal with one of its quills, as Petros, in sweeping out 

 my " das," chanced to lose my guinea-fowl pen. The 

 vulture I thought to be a bird of ill-omen, and so 

 knocked him dow n. In the evening I went out close to 

 the water and shot one of the sand-grouse which came 

 to drink, but it was so dark I could not find the bird. 

 No one can have any idea how miserable it is to be 

 sick in the bush, away from everybody and everything 

 — no one to speak to but your servant, who generally 

 talks the vilest of negro English. However, I was 

 homeward-bound to-day, my servants having made 

 me a rough sort of palanquin, in which I intended to be 

 carried, as I meant to try and avoid either walking or 

 riding. I hoped to get fresh eggs, milk, and chickens 

 at the village of Azho, which might improve me ; as 

 in reality it was good food that I wanted. I had sent 

 on some of my baggage with Guyndem and another 

 servant, and with orders to build me a " das " at Azho, 

 and let the people know that I was coming. I pro- 

 posed to stop half-way on the road at Maidarou. 



March lO. — I had an awful journey on the previous 

 night. I started from the other side of the plain of 

 Coom-Coom-Dema at five o'clock by my little sun- 

 dial, and got to Maidarou, our old camping-place, about 

 9 P.M. Of course I could not say if this time was 



