III BIG GAME SHOOTING, 1887 69 
While in camp at Gulanleh I was suddenly roused at noon 
by shouts in Hindustani of “ Mdro, Sahib/ Maro!” (Shoot, 
shoot). So pulling out my revolver, I looked round the fly of 
the tent, and found my whole camp in an uproar; men were 
running for their spears, and backing into one end of the zeriba 
stood the Midgan, fitting a poisoned arrow to his long bow and 
glaring viciously at one of my camelmen, who, surrounded by 
his friends, stood at the other end of the zeriba poising his 
spear. ‘The situation was decidedly theatrical. First I walked 
up to the Somali and made him give me his spears, and then 
returning to the Midgan I bundled him ignominiously into my 
tent, poisoned arrows and all, and threw him a beisa skull to 
clean, telling him not to leave the tent without permission, 
Having thus disposed of the centres of disturbance I held an 
inquiry, when it appeared that the quarrel had arisen through 
my having persuaded my Somalis to allow the Midgan to eat 
with them out of the same dish. A young camelman had, 
during a hot argument, told the Midgan that such as he should 
not be allowed to eat with respectable Somalis, whereat sturdy 
little Adan rejoined, “Who are you to talk? Yow’e only a 
baby ; you have not learned to eat at all yet; go back to your 
mother and drink milk.” The youth, having no more arguments 
left, stooped, and picking up a spear which lay beside him, leant 
over and prodded Adan gently in the back, causing blood to 
flow. Rice, dishes, and men scattered in all directions, and I 
had come out of my tent only just in time to prevent the Midgan 
sticking an arrow into his assailant. The Midgan was clearly 
in the right, and calling the camelman to my tent, I ordered a 
slight compensation to be paid, and then persuaded them to 
shake hands. These duels arise out of almost nothing, and if a 
man be killed, a blood-feud between tribes, perhaps lasting for 
years, is the result. Luckily the Soméalis, although quick to 
resent an insult, as quickly cool down again. 
About nine o’clock one morning one of my trackers rode in 
to say that his party had struck the fresh tracks of a solitary 
bull elephant in a nala some twelve miles to the westward, and 
that they had followed him along its banks for eight hours, at 
last finding him, feeding and standing about, at Hil Danan. 
My informant went on to say that he had left his two com- 
panions to watch the elephant. At Eil Danan a sandy river-bed 
bordered by high reeds winds through a deep square basin 
formed by the sides of the Eil Danan plateau, which is two or 
