TWO DIANAS IN SOMALILAND 125 
hate. It was all a gross piece of bad management on 
the part of Clarence. Even Homer nods. 
As a result of the exposure Cecily contracted rheu- 
matism of some inflammatory description. We called 
it rheumatism for want of a better name, but her illness 
most coincided with something discussed in our medi- 
cal work — our vade mecum — and most unfortunately 
the page was lost and the name of the complaint, as 
luck would have it, was on it. 
We decided it must be rheumatism, and treated it 
accordingly. The right arm was rendered quite useless, 
and it was agony for the poor girl to do more than 
crawl about. It was a most irritating affair for her, 
and ever so disappointing. The best sport of the trip 
was now at hand. We were in the rhino country, and 
at breakfast next morning a Somali hunter rode in — it 
is marvellous the way in which these people track 
caravans and then seem to drop in from nowhere — 
and he brought news, great news for us. Clarence 
introduced the man, a fine upstanding Berserk, who 
gazed in bewilderment at the new type of sporting 
sahib. A rhinoceros was in the vicinity, that much we 
elicited, that much, and enough too. A flowing tobe 
was the reward for these tidings of great joy. 
Leaving Clarence to glean all particulars, I rushed 
to Cecily’s tent to see if she would require me to remain 
in camp with her. She said, nobly, “ Of course not.” 
Truth to tell, I don’t think I could have done it had 
she asked me to. 
I was so overjoyed and excited that I saw to the 
condition of my rifle ten times over. 
