248 AGARU TO FAJULI. 



past the huts of the village of Madi, which was deserted last 

 year on account of sickness, and finally turned through grassy 

 flats and very numerous bamboo copses straight to Jebel 

 Abayo, passing round which, in a sharp curve to the east, it 

 brought us to a rocky hill at the eastern declivity of that 

 mountain. There we halted, and obtained a glorious view to 

 the east and south-east over blue mountains which no European 

 had hitherto seen. Last year thick mist partly concealed the 

 horizon, and it was impossible to obtain any compass bearings. 

 This time also an evil star seemed to rule, for the interpreters 

 I had brought with me became confused in giving the names, 

 and contradicted one another, which was very annoying, for 

 some forty mountains and mountain groups were in sight. 

 So I only accepted those names which were given me unani- 

 mously, and left the rest to fill in at favourable points along the 

 road from native information, a plan which proved successful 

 beyond my expectations. 



A long row of doleb palms marked the course of Khor 

 Funotar, a tributary of the Bagger, to which we next made 

 our way. Darkish water flows down the rocky bed of the 

 Jchor, but is good for drinking. Up to this point the country 

 is covered with brushwood, interrupted by corn-fields, high 

 grass, and bamboo copses. A large savannah, grown over in 

 parts by low brushwood, commences here ; it is crossed by 

 numerous rivulets, all of which run into Khor Bagger. When 

 we passed through it the grass was already very high. I 

 may mention that all these grassy flats found in the Slmli and 

 Madi countries, and often twelve to fifteen hours' march across 

 either way, are purposely left unoccupied, as preserves for 

 elephants and game. Jebel Goma, which on this journey was 

 occasionally seen far off to the right, was an old acquaintance. 

 The rushing water of Khor Bagger, to which we descended, 

 struggles through acacia bushes and over patches of sand and 

 slabs of mica schist, and is audible at some distance. Flowing 

 in a curve from east to west, it is here about forty feet broad, 

 and pours down its rocky bed a volume of water, four to five 

 feet deep, into Khor A sua, which, without it and the Atappi, 

 would be only a rain-torrent. 



We crossed the khor without any annoyance from crocodiles, 



