A MONGREL ARAB. 115 



joy the lovely night, and talk the whole day's work 

 over after everyone else had turned in. There was 

 no malaria here, nor did mosquitoes drive one to the 

 very portals of madness or desperation. It was in- 

 deed thoroughly enjoyable, and it was late when we 

 went to rest. 



After an early breakfast the following morning, we 

 sailed with a fair wind up to Pemanyinnee, which I 

 found in lat. 13^ 15^ south, long. 34"^ 47' east. Here 

 again was another of those beautiful bays, with the 

 same silvery beach as at Pamquala. A small river 

 runs into the lake from the hills during the rains, 

 but at present there is no current at all, and but 

 little water. The village huts line both banks, and 

 it is evidently an extensive settlement. 



Having sailed past the mouth of the river, we bore 

 on to the bay. A few natives collected on the shore 

 as we approached, but they were unarmed, and we 

 landed amongst them. These men exhibited no fear, 

 though they were anxious to know whence we had 

 come, and what was our business. Their chief be- 

 ing asked for, they stated that he was away in the 

 mountains shooting, and would be back soon. A 

 kind of mongrel Arab presented himself, endeavour- 

 ing to pass himself off as a true-bred follower of Mo- 

 hammed by approaching us with the customary '' Sa- 

 laam Allicum " of the Bedouins. I, being the only 

 one of our number who understood the meaning of 

 this salutation, replied, '' Allicum salaam," whereupon 

 the individual in question shook me warmly by the 

 hand. I may here mention that whenever one Arab 



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