290 TWO DIANAS IN SOMALILAND 
“ The morning was one of God’s own, done by hand, 
just to show what He could do.” We climbed up 
and up, painstakingly and ploddingly, and presently 
saw the rugged way over which we had come far 
below us. We had then been marching close on two 
hours, and must have done less than four miles. A 
little lonely karia was perched on a terraced outlook 
away to the west, its inhabitants strolling out lazily to 
watch our progress. Half a mile or so off was the 
Sheik Argudub’s tomb, a white dome-shaped structure, 
glinting in the sun, and looking for all the world like 
a replica of some massive wedding-cake. The whole 
scene was now grandly picturesque in the extreme, 
and gaining the top of the pass a wondrous panorama 
lay spread at our feet. Wealth of colour sprang 
voluptuous around us : here a mass of green merging 
to purple, there pale tints of cream and brown, aesthetic 
and delicate. Everywhere great ravines yawned, 
black and mysterious. Farther off, the vast Marmitime 
Plain, and miles on miles away, thirty or more, a tiny 
dark blue riband, fringing the whole, told us that the 
sea was there. Valleys, ravines, mountains, rivers 
too, helped out the beauteous scene, and above all, 
rising superior, was Mount Wager, mightiest of all the 
Golis. 
We camped in this delightful place, overlooking a 
vista I can never forget. Preying vultures kept watch 
over infinite space, in widening circles. A hot wind 
blew through the camp. Here at last, for the moment, 
we could see about us without that smoke-like dust 
to curtain all things. The light of the setting sun 
