THE VILLAGE. 



53 



sun-scorched to a sickly tawny brown, and thinly 

 sprinkled with thorny trees. Amongst the latter 

 I recognized the ' Gabol '-mimosa of Somaliland, 

 whose long sharp needle, soft whilst young, but 

 dry, hard, and woody when old, springs from 

 a hollow filbert-like cone. 



Another mile brought us to the first ascent 

 of the Rabai hills. The pitch of the fell was 

 short but sharp, and the path wound amongst 

 boulders, and at times under palms and clumps 

 of grateful shade. On the summit appeared 

 the straggling lodges of the savages, pent- 

 housed sheds of dried fronds, surrounded by 

 sparse cultivation, lean cattle, and vegetation 

 drooping for want of rain. The desert people 

 were all armed, being in terror of the Wamasai, 

 the natural enemies of their kind. Xone, how- 

 ever, carried guns, the citizens of Mombasah 

 having strictly prohibited the importation of 

 powder ; a w ise precaution which might be 

 adopted by more civilized races upon the West 

 African coast. Amid cries of Yambo ! — a salut- 

 ation which recalled dim memories of Mumbo 

 Jumbo — especially from that part of the com- 

 munity termed by prescriptive right the fair — 

 questions as to whether our bundle contained pro- 

 visions, and the screams of lean-ribbed children, 



