On the morning of December 31, the donkeys were laden and our journey
was begun by a quarter to eight. We were again hindered on the march
by the shifting of the donkeys’ loads.
Our track now lay among craggy mountains, in the rain-scoured
district, where there is no single human habitation. I saw neither
wild beast nor bird, and the country gave a strange impression of
stillness and lifelessness. The flora is quite distinct from that of
the Soudan. The trees are tall and spreading and of many different
species. I recognized the “Matabele apple,” and saw the hard,
uneatable fruit on the branches. The ground in many places was covered
with “bamboo grass,” too high for a mounted man to look over,
and the thick, overtopping growth seemed to shut out the air. As we
advanced during the afternoon we discovered that the grass had been
fired at several spots along our route—I do not know by whom,
or whether it was kindled accidentally or by design. The flames
drove out some partridges, and Dupuis and I thought that we saw
a tasty breakfast for the next morning. But when we moved forward
with our guns the birds, to our amazement, ran back into the burning
cover. The fire died out in the evening, and all was quiet at night.
There is much stony land in this district. The soil of the fertile
tracts is not of the friable kind which we had so often seen in
the Soudan: but there are many fissures in it, due, no doubt, to
alternate drenching and drying in the rainy season. Our road often
lay along steep and wide gorges, through which an enormous volume
of water descends to the Atbara at the time of the floods. My mule
was very steady on his legs and the motion was easy when he trotted
on open ground. He only showed the waywardness of his kind when I
led him. It was pleasant to think that some sort of understanding
existed between the rider and his mount after one had been accustomed
for weeks to the impassive eye of the camel.
On January 1, a couple of shabby fellows visited our camp in the
morning. We questioned them and found, from the answers which Johannes
translated, that they were the escort sent to accompany Gwynn and
were on the way to join him at Gallabat. He might consider their
company a sign that he was honoured, but scarcely a sound protection
against robbery. We struck our camp after this and commenced the
day’s journey, following the bed of a river. As usual, there
were dry tracts and well filled pools in its course. Later, we
climbed the bank and struck into the country beyond, continually
riding up hill and down dale. Again we saw an abundance of tall
grass and fine timber. The former was dry at this season, and had
been burned in many places. The country here abounds in big game,
but the height and thickness of the grass make it very difficult to
sight animals. We saw a koodoo, three gazelles, traces of elephants,
and spoor of other beasts, but none came within range.
We had covered fourteen miles by half-past eleven, and then halted,
considering that the donkeys had journeyed far enough. Our progress
depended on them, and we were careful not to overwork them. Three were
suffering from girth sores. We pitched our camp in a ravine about a
quarter of a mile distant from the bed of the Gundar Wahar—which
is the river Atbara with an Abyssinian name.
One of our escort was reported ill with fever, and I found that his
temperature was 104 degrees. But quinine had brought about a decisive
improvement by nightfall. I had another patient. My friend Crawley had
chafed his instep, and there was a bad sore on it. I had recourse to a
little doctor’s diplomacy to keep him still, and put on such a large
fomentation that he could not walk. Then Dupuis and I took our guns
and rifles and tramped in the jungle—for the mass of thick, lofty
grass deserved the name. My companion shot a brace of partridges, and
we saw some guinea-fowl, and much spoor of big game. But nothing more
got into our bag, and the excursion was wearisome and disappointing.
On January 2 our road again lay through hilly, verdurous
country. While the donkeys climbed or descended the steep inclines
their loads slipped as before, and kept all hands busy. The boys
were continually shouting for help, and the burdens were replaced
amid yelling and cursing. These natives never worked without talking,
singing, or swearing, and they were specially fond of hearing their
own oaths. But, I think, very little ill-will went with the words,
and in spite of the endless imprecations uttered over the donkeys,
they treated the animals well.
During the morning I took my rifle, filled my pockets with ball
cartridges, and rode ahead of our party in the hope of trying a shot
at big game. But I found small parties of Habashes[30] at intervals
along the track throughout a distance of two miles in front of our
convoy. Clearly it would be useless to search for any large wild beast
in the proximity of these groups. I recognized the men as folk who
had attached themselves to our train. They made a practice of camping
where we pitched our tents, and had hitherto forestalled us in the
choice of ground, and settled under the most suitable trees. They
sought protection from the robbers who infest the district—the most
notorious at the time was a Soudanese Arab called Hakos. I was glad
that these wayfarers should enjoy a sense of security, but resented
having sport spoiled. So I addressed a remonstrance to Johannes, who
promised that all camp followers should keep in the rear in future,
and he was as good as his word.
That afternoon we pitched our tents on the banks of the Gundar
Wahar, which was here a stream trickling from pool to pool. We had
travelled about fourteen miles. My friend Dupuis fitted out his
angling tackle, and tried his fortune in some of the pools, using
an ordinary spoon-bait. He caught three fair-sized fish, belonging
to the perch family. I saw him land the biggest, which weighed six
pounds, and showed fight. It had to be played into the shallows,
and was brought ashore in smart style. Crawley, who was lame, limped
to the edge of the river and cast a line with dough on the hook. He
fished patiently, and his perseverance was rewarded with two little
creatures of the size of sticklebacks.
All the camping-grounds by the waterside in this district are called
_warshas_, and as there are few distinctive names for places in
the uninhabited tract, we called the spots where we halted _warsha_
number one, _warsha_ number two, and so on.
In this region, near the rivers, the white ants are extremely
numerous. They are not seen at a distance from water, and cannot
work without moisture to renew the fluid that exudes between their
mandibles. This enters into the composition of the stiffened earth of
which they build their dwellings. They are voracious and destructive,
and have a propensity for gnawing leather, felt—which unfortunately
they found in the pads of the donkeys’ saddles—and any textile
material. They are most active at night, and, to preserve our bedding,
we had provided ourselves with “Willesden sheets.” These are made
of canvas coated with a preparation of arsenic, which the white ants
avoid. The sheets were always spread under our beds when we camped,
and if anything that was to the taste of the ants slid beyond the
edge in the dark, destruction awaited it.
I formed the opinion that the white ants have rendered
valuable service to Egypt by amassing the fertile mud which is
carried down to the Nile Delta, and venture to put forward the
following considerations in support of the theory. On entering the
Abyssinian borderland, one cannot help remarking the structure of
the ground. Our track lay generally along watercourses, and the
beds of dry mountain torrents. Here the soil was composed of sand,
shingle, and pebbles. On either bank, and for some distance beyond,
lay an expanse of basaltic stone, on which little earth was to be
seen. Grass grew there, but by no means so abundantly as in the
plains, and there were climbing plants, such as convolvulus, and
ivy, which clung to nearly every tree. These creepers made the path
extremely difficult to follow. Further away from the watercourses
lesser vegetation and longer grass appeared. The white ants’ nests,
from nine to twelve feet in height, were found here, usually close
to a soft wooded tree. The roots of it, in most cases, had been
attacked by the insects, and converted into “white ant earth.”
The trunk afterwards undergoes the same process, and by the advent
of the rainy season only the outlying twigs remain intact. A heavy
gust of wind will then overthrow the _simulacrum_ of a tree. The rain
falls in torrents, and the compost which the insects have made of
the timber is broken up and carried by innumerable channels into the
tributaries of the Atbara, and finally reaches the main stream. It
is well known that the Atbara brings down the greatest quantity
of this mud, the Blue Nile carrying less, and the White Nile, the
most sluggish stream of the three, least. The two more rapid rivers
rise in Abyssinia, in regions where the white ant is extremely
destructive to vegetation. Moreover, the innumerable ant-heaps[31]
are made entirely of earth, which crumbles under the rains, and is
swept into the watercourses in the season of floods. And in the dry
months the ants—besides devouring straw and the bark of living
trees[32]—eat into every branch and twig that the past storms
have brought to the ground. Carrying earth into their excavations,
they hollow the wood, as in the case of the soft standing timber
which they attack, and leave just the outer covering intact. I
have often stooped to pick up a stick for the cook’s fire, and
found that my fingers broke a thin shell of bark, and scattered the
contents. Another circumstance which seemed worthy of remark was
that we found no deposit of “Nile mud” within the Abyssinian
boundary, nor any earth resembling it; so one may conclude that, as
soon as the Atbara, when in flood, reaches the level of the Soudan,
it spreads a deposit of this fertile soil beside its banks, though
the great mass is carried into the Nile. According to this view,
the fertility of the alluvial districts of Lower Egypt is in no
slight measure due to _detritus_ from Abyssinia, and the white ants
have contributed an important share to the resources of the Nile
valley. Of course, I do not for an instant contend that all the
mud deposited by the river in Egypt is supplied by the white ants,
but I believe that the wonderful productive property of the alluvial
deposits is due to the work of these insects in the western borderland
of Abyssinia. Therefore, in my belief, the white ant has justified its
existence, though its room is undeniably preferable to its company.
On January 3 I saw a buffalo, tried to stalk it, and lost it. While
I was on the way to rejoin our party, a water-buck sprang up within
range—and so startled me, that he got away before I took an aim.
That day we marched seven hours, and covered twenty miles. Our
camping-place was in the rocky course which a torrent follows in
the rainy season. There were pools in it, and we had an abundance
of clear water.
The aneroid barometer showed that we were now three thousand
feet above the sea, and the air was chill as soon as the sun went
down. It was the first day on which we had reached any considerable
height. At this altitude bamboos form the prominent and characteristic
vegetation.
On January 4 we continued our ascent. The narrow path followed a
zig-zag course up a steep mountain-side. The track was full of loose
stones, and we constantly had to “negotiate” boulders and big
rocks or scramble through cramped passes. In these the larger loads
stuck, and it will be readily inferred that we made slow progress. I
heard of no other practicable route through this region, and believe
that it would be well-nigh impossible to carry heavy baggage this way.
We reached the summit at last, and saw in front of us, in the
distance, the plateau in which Lake Tsana lies. We were almost on
a level with it. Far away, many mountains rose in view, clearly
outlined, and showing light and shade in a soft and lovely purplish
blue colour. There was no glacial cap upon these high peaks, though
it is probable that the loftiest points in Abyssinia are within the
line of perpetual snow.[33]
One of our escort of Habashes from the Arab Battalion pointed eagerly
to the high lands opposite, and said to a Soudanese boy who was
standing near, “Look at my beautiful country!” The soldier’s
manner showed all the zest of a schoolboy returning home for the
holidays. The answer was, “Call this a country! Where are the
people?” Our men from Upper Egypt were puzzled and disdainful. They
had travelled eighty-six miles in Abyssinia and had not seen a
dwelling or a sign of cultivation.
A deep ravine lay below us, and we descended through it and entered a
great gorge which opened out as we advanced. We were on rocky ground,
covered with a layer of earth and loose stones. Our track wound
through dense groves of bamboos, and we had to perform gymnastics on
muleback to avoid a whipping from the canes. In this uncomfortable
covert we passed a party of traders taking coffee to Gallabat. They
had with them about sixty loads.
Presently our convoy, which in extended order covered nearly a mile
and a half, debouched upon the valley of the river Geerar.[34] The
bed, which is of bare rock, was dry when we passed through it. I
saw here many basins neatly excavated in a curious fashion. They
varied in size, but at the bottom of each was a stone. Evidently,
this had first been lodged during the time of flood in some small
hollow in the water-course. There, being constantly driven round
by the eddying water, it had worn a deeper and deeper hole, at the
bottom of which it rested in the dry season. We followed the course
of the river up stream for about five miles.
The valleys on either side are sharply cut ravines in the
mountain-sides. They were covered with grass at that period of
the year.
We lunched in the shade of the river bank, and afterwards visited
some hot springs which were near at hand. The first was a runnel of
clear water guided from its source in the rock to a pool by a wooden
gutter. I put my hand under this, and judged that the temperature
was well over 150° F. At a little distance we found another spring
which, welling from the ground, filled a basin about forty feet in
circumference and one foot deep. Here, too, the temperature of the
water was high, but not so high as to prevent bathing, and a roof of
thatch had been built over the pool. We saw several Habashes, men,
women, and children, who inhabited some rough, small thatched huts
which had been put up close by. Some were old dwellings, some newly
constructed. I could not ascertain whether these people resorted to
the springs for a “cure” or merely formed a settlement established
by keepers in charge of the place. Apparently all belonged to one
family. I visited their camping-ground, but when I approached the
women and children bolted into one of the huts. Perhaps they had
not seen a European before and did not consider the first example
prepossessing; or they may still have supposed—as most Abyssinians
at one time did—that all persons who came from that continent
were Turks. In the latter case I excuse their timidity. They watched
me through the thatched walls of the hovel just as a rat sometimes
watches a suspect from the entrance of its hole.
The water, as far as I could judge, was pure. It was tasteless,
and very “soft,” as I found by using it in my bath. No steam
was visible at the springs, though before I left them—about four
in the afternoon—the air was becoming cool. Some large trees grew
near the pool, and I saw a big and fine monkey with a shaggy face
and a growth of fluffy white hair on its tail leaping and squatting
among the boughs.
There are many hot springs in Abyssinia, and they are highly
valued by the natives for the medicinal qualities attributed to
them. Probably in some places the virtue of the waters is real,
in others merely reputed.
The most frequented baths are at Wansage on the River Gumara,
which flows into Lake Tsana. Dr. Stecker visited the spot in 1881,
and wrote the following brief account of it,[35] which throws a
light on Abyssinian social customs: “The hot spring issues from
the left bank of the river and rises to a height of two or three
metres from the ground. It fills a basin constructed by King Theodore
with water of a temperature of 37° C. A hut has been built over the
basin”—as at the spring which I saw—“and the Abyssinians who
are trying the ‘cure’ here sport in the water all day long. In
arrangements these baths resemble Ostend and Trouville in miniature,
seeing that women and men, youths and girls, spend their time in
the bath in lively promiscuity and keep up an intercourse that
is not always decorous. Quarrels often arise among the ‘cure’
patients, especially when some one has used the baths longer than
is permitted to him. Thus from early till late one hears the loud
tones of the brawlers and the lamentations of women and children,
who often come in for a beating on these occasions.”
On January 5 our road lay at first beside the River Geerar, which is
the main source of the Rahad. Presently it diverged from the bank,
and the track, which lay over stiff hills, became worse. At some
points the donkeys could not pass, and we had to lift them bodily,
loads and all, over obstructions, or push them past the rocks between
which their loads were jammed. Once the animal that was carrying
Dupuis’ valise and Gladstone bag, half slipped into a steep ravine
with water at the bottom, forty feet below. In another place I saw an
unlucky little beast turn two complete somersaults while it tried to
scramble down a sloping ledge of rock. To my horror I caught sight
of my medical bag on the top of its burden. I rushed up, and helped
to unload the donkey, which seemed none the worse for the fall,
and, to my astonishment and relief, I found all my doctor’s gear
intact. Even the tabloid bottles, with a precious stock of quinine
and phenacetine in them, had escaped by a miracle.
In crossing and recrossing the river-bed I was able to note the height
to which the floods rise in the water-courses. I saw that flotsam,
such as wisps of straw and bits of wood, had been lodged in branches
and twigs at least twelve feet above the bed of the stream, and this,
in the upper reaches among the hills, has a width of twenty-five to
thirty feet on an average.
We camped at the foot of the mountain-side which would give us our
final climb to the lake-plateau. Johannes pointed out the route to
me, and I thought that one would have as much chance of shoving a
donkey up the Great Pyramid as up that sheer precipice.
Some Habashes came to us at the camping-ground, bringing a cow, a
chicken and ten eggs. They told us, through Johannes, that the cow
was “a present,” and he said that it was worth ten dollars.[36]
We decided to offer a “present” of fifteen dollars in return,
and counted out the money. To our astonishment, the Habashes marched
the cow off, saying that they would not accept the gift. We picked
up our coins, feeling rather small. But money is “a good soldier
and will on,” as Falstaff had found. In an hour the animal was
brought back, and the “presents” were duly exchanged. Then there
was a wrangle among our Mohammedans as to the ceremonial proper to
be observed in slaying the unlucky cow; for some of the boys were
of one sect, some of another. The question was settled after much
haggling, and they held high festival and ate meat late into the
night. A few choice cuts had been reserved for ourselves, but the
bulk of the carcase was handed over to our followers, and they left
only niggardly fare for the vultures next morning.
[Illustration: RAIN COUNTRY.
_See p._ 64.]
A very good impression of the character of the country through which
we had been marching is given by Mr. Dufton’s short description of
it. “The road was very uneven, now ascending a steep mountain-side,
now descending into a deep valley. The country was magnificent, far
surpassing anything I had previously seen. The high mountains of the
Scotch highlands, covered with the fertility of the Rhineland, would
best represent it, but the vegetation was of a nature quite different
from that of the Rhine, characterized as it was by the luxuriance of
the tropics. Once the road skirted the side of a mountain the summit
of which, raised one thousand feet above our heads, looked down into
a deep valley another thousand feet below our feet. On the opposite
side of the valley the land rose to a similarly steep eminence, which,
in one part, was connected with that on which we stood by a low chain
of undulating ground, so that a pretty little stream at the bottom,
like a silver thread in the dark shadow of the mountains, wound about
searching for its channel. Fruitful fields hung over it thick at every
curve. The hills, of secondary formation, were broken here and there
into rocky chasms, through which leaped innumerable falls of water
in their downward course to join the stream; and here I saw for the
first time the beautiful Euphorbia called the Kolquol, whose dark,
candelabra-shaped branches, tipped with bright orange-red flowers,
stood out in deep relief from the lighter ground. Bright flowers
of every variety, most of which were unknown to me, but amongst
others the familiar wild rose, the honeysuckle and the jessamine,
lent their beauty and fragrance to the scene.”[37]
The knotted sapling which I photographed in the course of this
day’s journey (January 5) has an historical interest which tempts
me to moralize on the variability of human fortunes and the happy
tranquillity of vegetable life. The tree had been growing in this
distorted form since the time of the battle of Gallabat, which was
fought between the Dervishes and the Abyssinians in 1889. I have
alluded elsewhere to the singular vicissitudes of the fight.[38]
The Dervishes, in light order, pursued their foes as far as the lake
district, a circumstance which shows that raids are possible even in
this difficult country. The Mahdi’s men, like our own War Office
on a more recent occasion, had extremely little geographical or
topographical information. So the advance party twisted the saplings
to mark the route for those who came after them, and to guide the
force on its return journey to the Soudan. The trees are the only
remaining memorial of the Dervish raid.
[Illustration: THE KNOTTED SAPLING NOW BECOME A TREE.
_See p._ 66.]
In this region I saw very few birds. But on the night of the 4th,
while I was getting ready for bed, I heard one whose notes ascended
through a perfect chromatic scale. My friend Dupuis told me that these
songsters are common in India, where they are called “brain-fever
birds.” Whether he spoke as a humourist or a genuine informant,
I cannot say. In the Soudan I had often heard a bird whose notes
reversed the process and _descended_ the chromatic scale very
perfectly. I omitted to suggest to my companion that he should import
some of this species to India and try its performance as a remedy
for brain fever.
On the morning of January 6, we started to climb to the plateau
in which Lake Tsana lies. The ascent commenced immediately. The
narrow track was extremely steep, and, as on the previous day, our
path was full of loose stones and led us over great rocks that crop
out of the mountain-side. The donkeys were constantly slipping and
falling. Some came to a standstill, and refused to budge. We had
to shove the animals by main force over boulders and up slippery
ledges of rock, and at places not a few of them were raised bodily,
loads and all, by means of their tails and forelegs, and lifted over
obstacles. At this rate of ascending we covered two miles in three
hours and a half, and still had a climb of another couple of miles
ahead of us. Then the character of the track changed, and we travelled
round a horseshoe-shaped chasm, following a path four feet wide,
with a sheer precipice four hundred feet deep below us and another
rising to the same height above our heads. It was a fine sight, and
there is a lovely growth of cactus on the mountain side. Besides,
we looked out upon a vast expanse of beautiful scenery, but I felt
uncomfortably like the ungodly of whom the psalmist said that they
were set in slippery places with a great risk of being cast down and
destroyed. “Oh, how suddenly do they consume; perish and come to
a fearful end!”[39] It was an inopportune moment to recall the text.
We reached the plateau at last, after another stiff climb upward
from the chasm. I need hardly say that the donkeys were utterly
fagged out. We had left the mimosas and the bamboos below us, and
Dupuis’ aneroid barometer showed that we were some six thousand
feet above sea-level. Here many species of cactus, large and small,
abounded. The soil on the plateau is rich, and the ground was thickly
covered with lush plants in blossom. I noticed, as I passed, the
familiar “red-hot poker,” the wild strawberry, moss of many hues
growing luxuriantly, the maiden-hair fern, and, on the trunk of a dead
tree, the Tonbridge fern. Many springs were bubbling from the rock,
and their courses were marked by the tenderest and brightest tints of
this wild mountain garden. I found that Dupuis, who had marched at
the head of the column, had been stopped by a couple of soldiers on
the edge of the plateau. The Abyssinian “regular” has no uniform,
but wears a dirty shama and the rest of the national costume, and
carries a rifle of an obsolete French pattern. These men were not
acting under Menelek’s orders but had been sent by the deputy of
the chief of the village, who was himself absent upon a visit to
Ras Gouksha, one of the great feudatories of Western Abyssinia. They
said that they had orders to stop the three Englishmen, and I found
that Dupuis had arranged to lunch at that spot and await developments.
Presently the “Deputy-Governor” arrived. He was barefoot, and
his shama and linen trousers showed that he was a sound observer
of Abyssinian custom in respect of cleanliness. He was escorted
by some grimy fellows with forbidding faces who carried guns. The
“Deputy” bowed low and shook hands with the three Europeans. Then
Dupuis offered him a camp-stool for a seat and talked to him, Johannes
interpreting. Menelek’s letter, giving us the right to pass freely
through any part of his realm and calling on his lieges to assist
us, was read, but to our consternation the “Deputy” refused to
let us go down to the lake, which was eight miles distant, until
we had received permission from his Ras.[40] Three days, he said,
would elapse before this could be obtained. We gave him a drink
of green chartreuse, and then he promised that he would allot a
camping-ground to us about a quarter of a mile from Lake Tsana,
but insisted that we must not pitch our camp on the shore.
[Illustration: MESSENGER SENT TO STOP US GOING DOWN TO THE LAKE.
_See p._ 68.
In Abyssinian intercourse the raising of the shama to cover the
nose is an assertion of _superiority_ by the person who so acts; to
raise the shama to cover the mouth implies a claim to _equality_. To
lower it to the waist is a sign of extreme deference; strictly,
it implies servitude.]
After the palaver he remained to watch us. A skin had been spread
for him under a tree a few yards distant from us, and he lounged
on this, staring at us when we were near, and following all our
movements as closely as he could without giving himself trouble. Long
grass grew around our camp, and I noticed some tamarind trees. We
strolled among these surroundings with our guns and shot a few wild
pigeons for dinner. Great numbers of these birds are seen on the
high ground. Then, _more anglicano_, we had afternoon tea.
After sunset the air was very keen, and we put on our thickest
clothes. The variation between the heat of the day and the cold at
night is extreme on the plateau, and of course it is sharply felt. We
turned in early and slept in the open. Our guard lay around us;
for we were in strange company. Besides the “Deputy,” who might
be calculating whether it would pay him better to see what present
we should offer and avoid the risk of complications, or to cut our
throats as quietly as possible and loot the camp, we had as near
neighbours a party of Abyssinian traders on their way to Gallabat
with coffee. They had bivouacked under a tree close by. They might
or might not be disposed to share in the pillaging, if any took
place. In the land of the Negus it is well to remember that “no
one is expected to feel ashamed of any crime or vice; and whereas in
other countries men in committing serious crimes are morbidly excited,
in Abyssinia they are perpetrated with indifference, and generally
recounted, sometimes by the individual himself, certainly by others,
with gaiety and laughter. . . . Theft is in many provinces regarded
as an honourable employment; highway robbery is quite excusable,
even if accompanied by homicide.”[41]
After all, we slept as peacefully as if we had been in Anerley
or Tooting. On the morning of January 8, we rose when the sun had
warmed the air, and ignored the presence of our dirty warder, who
still kept us under observation. While we were breakfasting I saw a
white umbrella approaching through the long grass, and shortly the
priest of the village hard by came in view. Neither the hamlet nor its
church was visible from our camp. This divine did not wear a turban,
which is the emblem of priestly rank in Abyssinia, but had on his
head the old straw lining of a tarboush. His other visible garment
consisted of a length of yellow and plum-coloured chintz. He carried
a staff surmounted by a cross of filigreed iron. One attendant held
over him the white umbrella, which had a blue lining, another bore
before him an open book, on one page of which appeared a picture—the
quaintly stiff and gaudy depiction of saints and sacred persons which
is an unvarying convention of Abyssinian art—and on the other page
I saw manuscript in the Amharic or Geez character.
The “Deputy” approached the priest, bowed, and kissed the book,
and some of his retainers followed his example. Then Johannes
explained to us that it was customary for travellers to make an
offering to the church of this village, which is on the boundary
of inhabited Abyssinia. Dupuis asked what the usual oblation was,
and the “spiritual pastor” had the effrontery to reply, through
Johannes, that it was ten dollars. Upon this Dupuis remarked that we
had been very badly received and were dissatisfied with our welcome,
that hindrances had been put in our way in spite of the terms of
the king’s letter, and that he should give no alms to any one.
This declaration disconcerted both the priest and the “Deputy.”
The former departed without further parley. The latter continued to
follow us and spy upon us. Dupuis and Crawley decided to disregard his
prohibition and advance. They moved in front of the column, and took
with them Johannes, his two attendants, and eight soldiers. I brought
up the rear with a couple of mounted men for escort. My progress was
not interrupted, and gradually Lake Tsana came clearly into view. I
found, when I rejoined my companions at the camping-ground which they
had chosen on the shore, that the “Deputy” had made an attempt
to stop them when they were about five miles from the spot. He had
given them to understand that they might see the lake, but must not go
down to the water’s edge. Dupuis replied that he should regard no
such order, and marched ahead. Upon this the “Deputy” shrugged
his shoulders, and forthwith took his leave, saying that he must
then return to his house, but that he would visit us in the evening,
and supposed he would find us on the shore of the lake, as we were
resolved to proceed thither. He had an answer in the affirmative,
and departed, to the relief of the whole party.