VILL JOURNEY TO WEBSE SHABELEH RIVER 213 
in order from north to south. The Imé people call their own 
river simply Webbe (River). 
I had now only time to ride back to the Rer Amaden karias 
at Dambaswerer, where my caravan was, and then to go quickly 
for thirty marches, occupying fifteen days, to Berbera. Bidding 
good-bye to our friends the Adone, we left at 2.50 p.m. on the 
9th May for Dambaswerer, mounted on the same avimals which 
had brought us to the Webbe. We rode till late at night, 
sleeping as before in the open, and at 3 a.m. resumed our ride, 
and going on with two short intervals for repose, reached 
Dambaswerer at sunset on the same day. The sturdy Abyssinian 
mule I rode came in first, then the two Arab camels, and last 
the five Amdden on their ponies, straggling in one by one. 
Ras Makunan’s mule had been a marvel of staying capacity 
throughout the journey, and I could never wish for a better 
animal for steady work. The Arab trotting camels from Aden 
are excellent, having both speed and endurance ; and a certain 
amount of kit can be carried on them in saddle-bags in addition 
to the rider. 
On the evening of 11th May we parted from Abdul Kader, 
and made an evening march to Jama Deria’s own keria. Here 
we remained one night, leaving early for our northern journey. 
Jama Deria’s people received me with enthusiasm, the crowds 
pressing round the camp. Their great delight was the coloured 
picture in the Zoological Society’s Proceedings of the Somali 
wild ass, which had become so dirty and so battered by hand- 
ling that I had mounted it upon the cover of a packing-case to 
keep it together. The people fought with each other to get 
round me and see it; those who had not seen the picture kept 
besieging my camp, crying out, “Show us the picture.” I showed 
the women, as a great favour, a coloured print from an illustrated 
paper of two pretty English girls skating, which raised a clamour 
of admiration, one stout gabad (maiden), with tresses recking 
with butter, calling out, “Why did Allah make us black and 
these white?” The men beginning to crowd round, and the 
remarks becoming too demonstrative, I put away the picture 
amid deep groans of disappointment. ‘The men of the tribe 
sat round my tent in a dense mass as I produced a book of 
engravings of the Franco-Prussian War, from the pictures of 
Détaille and De Neuville, and as I explained each picture 
through the interpreter their faces became grave at the thought 
of so many white men fighting with rifles together, and of the 
