250 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Aug. 14, 1909. 
the Dunkelly country. These are a nomad tribe 
of Abyssinians, very wild and subsisting entirely 
upon what game they kill and on their flocks 
of camels, cattle and goats, and they are not to 
be trifled with. Nearly all the camel men with 
the caravans are Dunkellys. The women are 
really beautiful, with most superb figures, and 
it is no uncommon sight to see a woman lead¬ 
ing six or eight camels on the march, one tied 
to the tail of another. They pack and load and 
manage them themselves just like a man, and 
in fact appear to work harder than the males. 
They seldom wear any clothing with the excep¬ 
tion of a loin cloth. My Somali said, “Dun¬ 
kellys, very bad peoples. Kill Somali.” They 
do not care for strangers and will throw a spear 
without the slighest hesitation. On passing a 
caravan a Dunkelly tried to sell me an oryx 
head. It was freshly killed and so I knew that 
jve were now in the oryx country. In the after¬ 
noon we came across a large herd of “galinuk,” 
but they were very wild. However, by allow¬ 
ing the caravan to go on, their attention was 
fully occupied and I easily got within range, 
and with my first shot killed one, and the bunch 
splitting up I got two more as they passed close 
by me. Two of these had fine heads. Shortly 
afterward we reached a good camping ground, 
but found it already occupied by Dunkellys, but 
we made friends of these by means of presents 
of fresh meat. Their camels, however, were a 
great nuisance, wandering about all night long 
and getting entangled with the tent ropes. 
I now noticed that there was considerable bad 
feeling between the Somali and Abyssinian boys 
in my caravan, and upon inquiring into the 
matter learned that the Somalis thought I gave 
too much preference to the Abyssinians in the 
matter of halal, which means cutting an ani¬ 
mal’s throat. Neither of these two tribes will 
eat meat that is not “halalled.” If an Abys¬ 
sinian does it, a Somali will not touch the meat, 
and vice versa. Between the two I had always 
been obliged to rush in and try to save the head 
skin and make them stick the animal low down 
so as not to spoil it, and now, to add to my 
troubles, I had to allow each one to halal his 
own animal so as not to cause further ill feeling. 
Their religion does not allow them to eat an 
animal that has not its throat cut before it is 
dead, but I have seen them cut the throat of a 
dead animal. I suppose they pretended to them¬ 
selves that it still had a spark of life and thus 
eased their conscience. 
Traveling was now most uncomfortable. As 
long as one could make camp before sundown 
it was well enough, but every evening at that 
time it commenced to rain. I never got a 
chance to dry the tents and the trail was bad 
and the mud very deep and as sticky as glue. 
Two more mules got sore backs and the next 
day I bought another from a caravan coming 
down. It was a good mule, but they made me 
pay $45 for it. Nevertheless I had to have it, 
and so “malaish,” as they say in Arabic, mean¬ 
ing, “There it is, all right, so be it.” 
The next day I saw my first Abyssinian oryx. 
The country through which we were traveling 
was a large wide valley with fine long grass and 
a few thorn bushes. Here I beheld a sight that 
will linger long in my memory. About ten half 
naked Dunkellys were riding bare-backed after 
an oryx. The poor beast never had a chance. 
At best he is a great ungainly animal, almost 
as large as an eland, but it was a magnificent 
sight; first the left flank would gallop and turn 
him and then the right. It was soon over and 
they got up to him and speared him. An oryx 
is easily run down in this way, and my little 
Abyssinian told me this is the method generally 
employed by the Dunkellys. Very few of this 
tribe carry rifles, the majority bows and arrows 
and spears, which they thrust with or throw, 
much as a Zulu does an assegai. 
In Abyssinia the birds are too beautiful for 
words, of every imaginable color and shade. I 
did regret that I had not brought with me a col¬ 
lector’s gun, and on my return to Diradawa I 
learned that there is quite an export trade done 
in this line by a Frenchman there who sends 
their skins to Paris, where they are used for 
trimming ladies’ hats and dresses. This man 
regularly employs natives to shoot bright plum- 
aged birds, provides powder and shot and pays 
for the birds killed. British East Africa has 
lovely birds, but they do not compare to those 
of Abyssinia. The Frenchman told me that for 
some birds he got as much as fifty francs; al¬ 
ways that amount for a swallow. The Abys¬ 
sinian starling is also a fine bird and is to be 
found everywhere. 
I was now about half way to Addis-Abbeba 
and pushed on as hard as I could go. At my 
next camping ground I found a French officer 
on his way down. He had already been twenty 
days coming from Addis and could scarcely be¬ 
lieve me when I told him how many days it 
had taken me from Diradawa. He had had a 
lot of trouble with his camels, several dying on 
the road, and this necessitated putting heavier 
packs on the surviving ones. The rain had 
greatly hindered him, and he had hoped to 
reach Diradawa before the rainy season set in. 
Camels, although they carry twice the load a 
mule does, do not travel well in wet weather; 
they slip a great deal and feel the cold. 
The mosquitoes were very bad and there were 
millions* of them. It was always necessary to 
have a smudge in camp, and without mosquito 
curtains, sleep would have been impossible. 
As there was no time to waste we hit the 
trail early next morning and I hoped to reach 
the big river, the Hawash, before night. It is 
a swiftly running stream, with precipitous banks 
on both sides and only fordable in certain places, 
and quite impassable in the rainy season. Where 
we intended to cross, it is bridged with a wooden 
structure. Though we marched fast, we were 
forced to camp some three miles off, finding a 
good camping ground, plenty of feed for the 
mules, and water. This place was simply alive 
with partridges, and how I longed for a gun. 
It was one of the best places I had struck the 
whole trip, with plenty of everything. I shot 
a brace of partridges, sitting on a branch, and 
was returning to the camp when a lesser koodoo 
came close by me. He seemed quite dazed and 
I think he must have been chased by a leopard 
or something. Anyhow he made a welcome ad¬ 
dition to our larder. 
We crossed the Hawash the following morn¬ 
ing early. The bridge looks very rickety and I 
do not think would stand much weight. The 
road to and from the bridge is very rocky and 
precipitous and we were lucky to find no other 
caravans crossing, as the bridge is so narrow 
you are forced to wait your turn, and that would 
have meant delay. On the further side of the 
river I saw the largest herd of mixed buck that 
I came across in Abyssinia. There were all 
sorts, but they were very wild, and though I 
stalked most carefully, I could not get near them 
and was forced to give it up in disgust. I saw 
that day some enormous big black cranes, but 
there was no object in shooting them, as the 
boys told me they were not good to eat and I 
let them alone. The three mules with sore backs 
were now useless. I would not have them pack¬ 
ed and on reaching a large village the follow¬ 
ing day, I left them with the Ras or head man 
of the village. He promised to doctor and feed 
them and do his best to have them fit by our 
return. I must own that it was with a certain 
amount of misgiving that I handed them over, 
but my little man assured me they would be all 
right. 
The following morning we got to Balgy where 
there is a custom house, and as I was traveling 
very light and had nothing dutiable, we got 
through without any trouble. What stopped our 
traveling more quickly was the muddy, slippery 
roads. We had now left game behind; at least 
it seemed so. The country was a very much 
better one and extensively cultivated. I saw a 
good many dead horses and mules on the road 
and concluded that here also they suffer from 
that curse of Africa, horsesickness, which is al¬ 
ways at its worst in the wet season. On mak¬ 
ing camp that evening I told Mohammed that 
early next morning I should push on for Addis 
and leave the caravan to come on slowly in his 
charge and that I should try to make through 
in one day. 
I was off at daybreak, taking with me the 
little Abyssinian, but foolishly only carrying food 
sufficient for one meal, but also a flask of 
whiskey. The mud on the road in many places 
was up to the mules’ bellies and traveling was 
necessarily slow, and it was very hard for the 
mules to get along, the mud being extremely 
sticky. It was also raining. Hour after hour 
we pushed on and I began to realize that we 
were not going to reach Addis that night. About; 
4 o’clock we reached a river, very much swollen 
by the rain, and in flood. It meant swimming 
for about forty yards, but my little Abyssinian 
would not have it at any price. I do not know 
whether he could not swim or not, anyhow we 
were forced to remain on that side without a 
vestige of shelter or food and the rain still 
pouring down. In Africa a river rises and falls 
with great rapidity and we could only hope the 
stream would go down by morning. We made 
up our minds to make the best of it and un¬ 
saddled the mules and turned them loose to 
graze. I made the Abyssinian understand that 
he had better go and look for shelter, and off 
he went. 
In about an hour he returned and we started, 
saddling the mules. He had found a little hut 
belonging to an old woman, where we could put 
up for the night. It was now getting quite dark, 
so we hurried and shortly reached it, but what 
a shack! Anyhow, it was shelter, and I was now 
shivering with cold. We all went into the hut, 
not even leaving the mules outside. Its occu¬ 
pants were one-old woman and a little girl of 
about six. The former got feed for the mules, 
lit a fire and produced Abyssinian bread and 
sour milk. The milk in Abyssinia is always 
sour and I found out why. They never wash 
out the gourd into which they milk, having the 
