220 
IN AFRICA 
derobo Dog’s horizon, however—a cloud that he 
soon learned to evade. The Mohammedans didn’t 
like him. It is a part of their creed to hate dogs 
almost as much as pork, and to be touched by a dog 
means many prayers to Allah to wipe away the 
stain of contact. But Little Wanderobo Dog was 
not conversant with the Mohammedan creed at first, 
and in his gladness and joy of life he embraced 
everybody in the waves of affection and friendli¬ 
ness that radiated from him like a golden aura. 
The Somali gunbearers were disciples of Allah, 
and they began to kick at him before he was within 
eight feet of them. Two of the tent boys were also 
Mohammedans, but they had to be more circum¬ 
spect in their hostility. Whenever Little Wander¬ 
obo Dog came around they would edge away, which 
gave the former a certain sense of importance be¬ 
cause it was flattering to have a number of grown¬ 
up men fear him so much. Then there were a num¬ 
ber of the porters who were Mohammedans of a 
sort, but these were wont to say, u O, what is a creed 
among friends?” 
It was quite cold up on the plateau at night. 
Sometimes the wind swept down from the distant 
fringe of mountains and shook the tents until the 
tent pegs jumped out of the ground. The night 
guard would pile more wood on the big central 
camp-fire near our tents and the porters, in their 
eighteen or twenty little tents, would huddle closer 
together for warmth. They were nights for at least 
three blankets, and even four were not too many. 
