MY FIRST BUFFALO 241 



our official standing — bodies of armed men are likely 

 to be taken for marauders — the inhabitants fled. I 

 made, as usual, for the market-place, and was met by 

 an old sub-sheikh, who informed me that Sheikh 

 Hamidan had unfortunately just left for a three days' 

 trip. I refused to swallow the yarn, and after waiting 

 till the afternoon levied a fine of guns on the village 

 and proceeded on my way. I left a small party to 

 bring the sheikh to Sultan Said Baldas, his overlord, 

 which was done and he was released. My paying for 

 my wants and not ordering all about to be hanged, 

 drawn, and quartered, pleasurably surprised these un- 

 sophisticated children of Nature. 



Our journey from this place to Khor Menerogo, 

 near which I had shot my first buffalo, was highly 

 interesting. Right into Dem Zubeir we could have 

 halted in a village every night, which shows the 

 population the watershed carries. 



The scenery was lovely, up hill and down dale. 

 The sub-sheikh of Migi, now full of information and 

 anecdote, was our guide. He pointed out to us where 

 the Umbelacha, a rocky stream 30 to 40 yards wide, 

 flowed between hills 70 miles to the west. The Barada, 

 too, a big river, flowed about half-way. 



About four miles from the village we reached a col 

 of Migi, whose principal peak, about 1000 feet above 

 the former, was a mile or so to the south — a big over- 

 hanging rock. Khor after khor was passed, all full of 

 water, mostly large. For instance, Mohedibi was 15 

 yards across, with banks 7 feet high. A stream they 

 called the Vongo — but how it got round J. Nunga 



Q 



