TWO DIANAS IN SOMALILAND 37 
from an engine. The front camel decided he would 
rest and meditate awhile, so sat down. He had to be 
taught the error of such ways, and in a volley of furious 
undertones from his driver be persuaded to rise. 
We passed numerous camels grazing, or trying to, in 
charge of poor looking, half-fed Somali youths. There 
is no grazing very near into Berbera, very little outside 
either unless the animals are taken far afield. Here 
they were simply spending their energy on trying to 
pick a bit from an attenuated burnt-up patch of grass 
that would have been starvation to the average 
rabbit. 
The camel men in charge came over to exchange 
salaams with ours, and proffer camels’ milk, in the 
filthiest of hams , to the “ sahibs.” We couldn’t help 
laughing. But for our hair we looked undersized 
sahibs all right, I suppose, but we couldn’t face the 
milk. It would have been almost as disagreeable as 
that bilge water tea. 
We each rode one of our expensive steeds, and I had 
certainly never ridden worse. I called mine “ Sceptre,” 
and “ Sceptre ” would not answer to the rein at all. I 
think his jaw was paralysed. He would play follow 
the leader, so I rode behind Cecily. 
The cook of cooks made us some tea, but I don’t 
think the kettle had boiled. Cecily said perhaps it 
wasn’t meant to in Somaliland. I asked her to see 
that we set the fashion. 
We rested during the hottest hours, and then trekked 
again for a little in the evening. There was no need 
to form a thorn zareba the first night out, as we were 
