226 
IN AFRICA 
of the gunbearers and other followers of Allah. He 
made friends with little Ali, the monkey’s valet, a 
small Swahili boy who looked like a chocolate drop 
in color, and like a tooth-powder ad in disposition. 
It was Ali’s duty to carry the monkey on our 
marches. 
The little gray monkey, with its venerable look¬ 
ing black face fringed with a sunburst of white 
hair, would be tied to an old umbrella of the Sairey 
Gamp pattern, and would sit upon it as the small 
boy carried it along the trails on his shoulder, like 
a musket. Sometimes when the sun was strong the 
umbrella would be raised to shield the monkey’s 
eyes, which could not stand the fierce glare incident 
to a long march upon sun-baked trails. At such 
times the monkey, who rejoiced in the brief name 
of J. T. Jr.—the same being emblazoned on the lit¬ 
tle silver collar around its neck—at such times the 
monkey would scamper from shoulder to shoulder 
of the small boy, with occasional excursions up in 
the woolly kinks of the heights above. It was a 
funny picture and one that never failed to amuse 
those who watched it. 
Well, Little Wanderobo Dog, by some prescient 
instinct hardly to be expected in one brought up in 
a swamp, decided that little Ali and the monkey 
were to be his “companions of the march.” So, when 
the tents were struck and Abdi, the head-man, 
shouted “Funga nizigo ydkaF and the tented city 
of yesterday became a scattered heap of sixty- 
pound porters’ loads, Little Wanderobo would seek 
