266 TWO DIANAS IN SOMALILAND 
“ phut 55 of the bullet, and why didn’t I ? This worried 
me a lot. I hate to think of half -shot creatures 
dragging on in agony. We found our ponies and 
galloped off in the line of country traversed by the 
vanished sig. We rode for a long way, searched 
thoroughly, but found nothing. We saw ostrich, but 
at long range, and we hadn’t the desire to try and bag 
one. After a lunch of cold oryx and bread of sorts 
(the oryx, by the way, who gave me reason to remember 
him), we decided to give up the chase, satisfied my 
bullet had not found a billet. The whole way home 
was blank. My shot had alarmed all the jungle folk, 
and they were now as shy as hawks. 
Back in camp the parleying with the stingy pro- 
prietor of the wells began. He would not reduce his 
charges, and we had to have water. I so hated to be 
done. After due deliberation we served the old 
gentleman with an ultimatum to the effect that we 
offered him a fair price, and if he would not accept 
the amount, we should take the water by force if 
necessary. Clarence translated the message, and 
afterwards we saw the recipient talking to his friends, 
some fifteen Somalis, and gesticulating wildly. The 
time arrived when the kettle demanded filling ere tea 
was forthcoming, so with almost all our men carrying 
hams and barrels, we marched right up to the wells. 
The old man, backed up by his Somalis, came close 
to Cecily and myself, and jabbered a great deal in 
furious tones. I expect the words were cuss words 
all right. They sounded like them. I signed to the 
men to set to work filling up. The enraged Somali 
