_OUR MOVEMENTS IN M’THARA AND MUNITHU._
Attempt of the Wa’M’thara to loot our camp—“Shauri” with Ismail—The
Somalis accuse N’Dominuki of treachery—He vindicates himself—That
wicked little boy!—Explanation of the Embe reverse—Somalis lose
heart—Attacked by ants—El Hakim’s visit to Munithu—Robbery of his
goods by the Wa’Gnainu—I join him—We endeavour to recover the stolen
property from the Wa’Gnainu—The result.
Ismail’s apprehensions for the safety of our respective camps seemed
to have been well founded. Jumbi, whom we had left in charge of our
boma, reported that on the evening of our departure for Embe he had
noticed that large numbers of armed natives were concealed in the
surrounding bush. He unostentatiously put the camp in as good a state
of defence as possible, and kept his few men moving about inside the
boma to give an appearance of numbers. He then noticed that the long
grass in the clearing was also crowded with concealed warriors, to the
number of several hundred. Presently some of them showed themselves. He
shouted to them, asking what they wanted. They answered by inquiring
if the “Wasungu” were in camp. He, with ready wit, shouted back that
one of the Wasungu had gone away somewhere, but the other two were in
camp. Did they wish to see them? They apparently did not, and he saw
no more of them, though they still remained within easy distance; and
consequently he passed a very anxious night. Our unexpected return next
morning disconcerted the warriors, who hastily retreated. They were
the fighting men we had passed on our way back. Jumbi said they were
Wa’M’thara, which, if true, was a very serious matter.
The men in charge of the Somalis’ camp made a similar report. Without
doubt the natives’ plan was to wait till news arrived of our defeat and
massacre in Embe, and then to rush and loot the camps, after spearing
the few defenders. These preparations seemed to indicate a deep-laid
plan on the part of some one, and some one, also, who was sure of
success.
Ismail Robli, with several of the other Somalis, came into our camp in
the afternoon showing every sign of terror, which they endeavoured,
unsuccessfully, to conceal. They asked for a “shaurie,” and when
we granted their request, they came out with a ridiculous story of
treachery on the part of N’Dominuki. They declared he was a traitor,
ignoring the fact, which we pointed out to them, that N’Dominuki had
been kept in ignorance of our plans. They further stated that he
was even now preparing to attack us at the head of the Wa’M’thara,
reinforced by a strong body of Wa’Embe. We refused point-blank to
believe a word of it. On questioning them as to their source of
information, they said that a man from Chanjei, who had come into
their camp to sell food, had told them. We were disgusted with their
credulity, and said as much. El Hakim told them that he had known
N’Dominuki for years as the most trustworthy of natives, and so had
other Englishmen before him, and he would not believe that he had
turned traitor, on the more than doubtful word of a casual native, whom
nobody knew, and who was of no consequence or position.
Ismail was obstinate. He persisted in his assertion that N’Dominuki
was a traitor, and instanced the armed Wa’M’thara who had concealed
themselves round about our camps the night before, as proof of his
words. We were a little troubled, as, though we would not for a moment
believe N’Dominuki to be the traitor, we did not know what his people
might do without his knowledge, or in spite of him. At all events, the
presence of armed men round our camp needed explanation. As we did not
quite understand matters, we sent for N’Dominuki, asking him to come to
our camp, as we wished particularly to see him. Our messenger returned
in the course of the day with a message to the effect that N’Dominuki
was suffering from fever, and was unable to come. We sent up again,
with some medicine, asking him to come if possible. He again returned
an answer that he was ill, but would come to-morrow.
His non-appearance seemed proof positive to Ismail and his following
that N’Dominuki was actively hostile. They were, in consequence, in
a perfectly frantic state. Of course, had N’Dominuki turned traitor
we should have been in a very bad fix, though it was only what could
have been expected after the double reverse in Embe. However, we were
very loth to believe it of him in the absence of direct and conclusive
evidence.
Ismail returned to his own camp, but visited us an hour or so later
with a fresh budget of news to the effect that N’Dominuki had received
the Embe chief in his house, and had killed a sheep in his honour. Once
more we sent to N’Dominuki, this time detailing the charges alleged
against him, and saying that, although we did not believe them, we
should be obliged if he would visit us as soon as possible. He sent
back to say that he would come to-morrow without fail.
All these conflicting accounts caused us considerable anxiety. As for
the Somalis, they were in a most pitiable state; that is, it would have
been pitiable had it not been so thoroughly contemptible. They appeared
panic-stricken, and worked with feverish energy in strengthening
their boma, felling huge trees and cutting thorn bush till long
after sundown. We ourselves did not neglect obvious precautions, and
strengthened our boma a little, more especially for the purpose of
reassuring our men, amongst whom the Somalis’ stories had created
something like alarm. We then sent a peremptory message to the Somali
camp, warning them that if their frightened sentries, through a false
alarm or any such cause, fired in the direction of our camp, we should
not hesitate to return the fire with interest. This message had the
effect of calming their nerves a little.
Next morning they again came over to our camp, still with the same old
tale of N’Dominuki’s treachery. These repeated allegations against
N’Dominuki caused us to suspect some ulterior motive. Still another
urgent message was sent to N’Dominuki, and this time he sent back word
that he was coming with his people, bringing food. He arrived an hour
or so after the message, and sending for Ismail and the other Somalis,
we held a big “shaurie.”
First we asked N’Dominuki why he had not appeared in answer to our
frequent messages the day before. He replied that _he and his people
had fled to the hills with all their cattle and goods, under the
impression that we were going to attack them_!
We inquired who gave him that idea, and he said that _a boy from the
Somali camp had told him so_.
_Then_ we began to see daylight. We inquired where the boy was.
N’Dominuki replied that as far as he knew he was still in the Somali
camp, so we ordered Ismail to produce him. In a few minutes he was
delivered, bound, at our feet. A cross-examination of the Somalis
elicited the fact that the boy had deserted from their camp, taking
with him one of their sheep. On being again questioned, N’Dominuki
stated that the boy had come to him for shelter. He had told the boy
that he would not allow him to stop there, but would send him back
to his masters, but the artful little boy said, “I have done it for
_your_ sake, N’Dominuki. I wished to warn you that the Wasungu and the
Wa’Somali are about to attack you.” N’Dominuki believed him, and fled
forthwith.
In a little while the boy, not liking the life with the natives, and
yearning for the flesh-pots of the camp, returned to the Somalis, after
having concocted a satisfactory explanation of his absence. He made out
to the Somalis that he had gone as a spy on N’Dominuki, who was an “el
moruo torono” (a wicked old man), as he had heard that he was hostile
to his dear masters, and that at great risk and personal inconvenience
he had carried out his plan successfully. He then solemnly warned them
that N’Dominuki was preparing to attack them. He counted on the gravity
of his announcement averting any unpleasant inquiries about the stolen
sheep—a ruse which was completely successful.
_Now_ we had got hold of the truth. Small boys will be small boys all
the world over, whether white or black, and this little untutored
specimen of his genus had kept a hundred and fifty armed men, in two
camps, in a state of intense anxiety for two days, and had driven a
tribe with all its cattle and goods in mortal terror into the hills for
the same period, in order to cover his impish escapade. He was treated
in the same way as from time immemorial other small boys have been—for
equally reprehensible escapades, and forthwith received the thrashing
he so richly deserved.
We gently chided N’Dominuki for believing “that little vulgar boy,” and
asked him why he had not come into camp and found out the truth for
himself. He was afraid, he said, that we should bind him and kill him
at our leisure! El Hakim represented that it was very unkind to think
that of _him_, who was such an old and proved friend. N’Dominuki’s
only reply was “_The boy told me so!_” That is a savage all over! They
believe the first story that comes to hand, even against their better
judgment. In N’Dominuki’s case, although his experience of white men
had always been of the best and pleasantest, he had met them late
in life, and had never quite lost the savage’s innate distrust of
strangers.
We dismissed the crestfallen Somalis, and advised them to give less
credence to casual reports in future. They seemed very sulky, and
were, we were beginning to believe, rather sorry that N’Dominuki had
successfully vindicated himself.
From that old savage we afterwards gathered a great deal of
information, which threw considerable light on the recent events in
Embe. It was now shown beyond the shadow of a doubt that the Masai
volunteer guide was an Embe native who, while spying round, had seized
the opportunity offered him of serving us to our disadvantage. The
Somalis were greatly to blame for saying that they knew him. So they
did, but in the hurry of the moment they had neglected to tell us that
they had merely seen him knocking about their camp for a day or two.
When we passed through M’thara in the darkness we were observed by
some of the Wa’M’thara, who were friendly to the Wa’Embe, and who
immediately sent off a runner with the news of our advance, thus giving
the enemy time to skilfully prepare the nice little trap into which we
all walked. Our escape throughout was due more to good luck than good
management, as the party who ambushed us and killed Jamah Mahomet were
only an advanced post of the Wa’Embe, the main body being posted a mile
further on, where they had dug numbers of pits in the path, in which
they, with great forethought, had placed sharp-pointed stakes. It was
their intention to attack us when we were floundering about in these
pits.
We had sadly underrated the skill and courage of the enemy, and
altogether had had a very narrow escape from irretrievable disaster. If
we had underestimated their capabilities, however, they had also paid
us the same compliment. The terrific fire which instantly greeted their
first onslaught must have surprised them greatly. It certainly daunted
them, and probably considerably disarranged their plans, preventing
them from bringing their main body up and surrounding us. Before they
had formed any fresh plan we had made good our retreat, which, in
the light of subsequent knowledge, proved to be a wise, if somewhat
humiliating step.
N’Dominuki said we should have told him of our plans. He only heard of
our intention to attack Embe after we had passed his village, and it
was then too late to warn us. He offered, if we wished to renew the
attack, to personally guide us into Embe by a much better path, with
open country on either side; the road we had followed being the very
worst one we could have chosen. His proffered assistance was gladly
accepted, and we communicated with the Somalis, expecting they would
jump at this opportunity of avenging the death of their leader. To our
intense surprise, they did nothing of the kind, but replied that they
only wished to buy food peaceably, and go their way northward. We were
simply astounded, and could not at first believe that Somalis, above
all people, could be so craven-spirited; besides, a successful punitive
expedition had now become a vital necessity if we were to preserve the
lives of our party, and render the country safe for those travellers
who might come after us.
Already there were ominous mutterings among the surrounding tribes,
begotten of our reverse in Embe, but we could not get Ismail to see
the matter in the same light, argue as we would. Jamah’s death seemed
to have thoroughly discouraged him. We reasoned, we begged, but to no
purpose. George and I went over to his camp in the evening in order
to make a final effort to rouse a little spirit in him. George has a
wonderful knowledge of Arabic, and he used it then with vigour and
fluency. I also possess a rudimentary knowledge of vituperation in
that language, and employed it to the utmost; but in vain. We argued,
threatened, cajoled, and insulted, but could get no response, beyond
the statement from Ismail that he was a man of peace, and wished to
go his way and trade. I pointed out to him with some emphasis that it
was not because he was a “man of peace” that he did not fall in with
our views, as I had had ocular demonstration of the fact that he was
the very reverse when he felt inclined. The reason, I told him, that
he did not wish to avenge the blood of Jamah, which was crying aloud
for vengeance, was a cowardly fear of a few naked savages, who were
not even Mohammedans. I called Allah to witness that he was a traitor
to his blood and his religion, and that Jamah, from among the “houris”
in Paradise would look down and curse him for “an unclean dog without
religion.”[5] He smiled a sickly smile, and repeated that he was a
peaceful trader, not a man of war. I then spat upon the ground to show
my utter contempt for him, and left him.
The following day we bought a large quantity of food from N’Dominuki’s
people, and packed it in loads in preparation for our march to the
Waso Nyiro. In the afternoon Koromo, the man who met us with the honey
when we were returning from Embe, came into camp with N’Dominuki and
requested the honour of blood-brotherhood with El Hakim, and that
interesting though disgusting ceremony was accordingly performed.
That night George and I had a very disagreeable experience. We and
the puppy had gone to our tent for a good night’s sleep after the
worry and trouble of the last three days. The pup was very restless,
and ran whining about the tent in a most annoying manner. At first we
thought it was only his “cussedness,” and scolded him well; but he got
worse instead of better, and finally rolled frantically on the ground,
yelping most dismally. Suddenly George said “D——n!” in a loud voice,
and sprang up from his bed, which was on the ground, and after a little
searching pulled a black insect from some part of his anatomy. He at
once examined his blankets, and found that they were literally covered
with tiny black ants, which, in spite of their small size, bit most
ferociously. I also turned out and found the ground under my bed was a
seething black mass of ants, which instantly attacked the unprotected
portions of my person with an earnestness and attention to business
which, under other circumstances, would have commanded my highest
admiration. Mine was a camp-bed standing a foot off the ground, and
consequently there were comparatively few on my blankets. We turned our
attention to the agonized puppy, and found that the poor little brute
was black underneath with the tiny pests, who had bitten into his flesh
and held on like limpets. We brushed him free and put him out of harm’s
way, swept out the floor of the tent, getting innumerable bites on our
naked feet and legs in the process, and sent for some ashes, with which
we liberally sprinkled the ground, and also spread them in a circle
round the tent, which to some extent mitigated the nuisance. I did not
suffer so much, as my bed, as already explained, was some inches above
the ground, and consequently George, who slept on a heap of rushes,
bore the brunt of the attack. I was aroused several times during the
night by a muttered exclamation from the darkness on his side of the
tent, followed by the slap which signalled the hurried exit of another
of our tiny enemies from this world of woe. We found in the morning
that we had not been the only sufferers. Round all the men’s tents
a broad band of ashes testified to the defensive measures they had
been compelled to adopt. The cry of “siafu” (ants) in camp is at all
times a signal for instant action. Red-hot ashes are hastily gathered
and sprinkled in the path of the advancing horde, and the greatest
excitement prevails till the foe is finally vanquished. I was compelled
to shift our tent during the day to another spot some distance away. By
first beating down the earth into a hard concrete-like floor and then
strewing it with ashes, we hoped to prevent a recurrence of the attack
of the previous night, an arrangement we found to answer admirably.
[Illustration: ELDERS OF M’THARA.]
[Illustration: DIRITO AND VISELI (on the right) AND TWO FOLLOWERS. (See
page 132.)]
The same day the Somalis left M’thara for Chanjai, where they
desired to purchase food. They promised that on their return in four
days’ time they would accompany us on another expedition into Embe—a
result I should have attributed to my eloquence of the night before had
we not been perfectly aware of the unreliability of their promises. El
Hakim, however, decided to wait on the off-chance of their returning,
and resolved to fill in a day or two by a journey back to Munithu
to collect food, and also to try to get news as to how far our Embe
reverse had affected native feeling towards us in those districts. He
took eight men with rifles with him. I amused myself all the morning
trying to make toffee from native honey and butter. The resulting
compound, though palatable enough, could not be induced to harden, so
we were compelled to devour it with a spoon. George gave in at midday
to a nasty touch of fever. I administered a couple of phenacetin
tabloids, and sweated him well, which towards evening reduced his
temperature. Next morning he was decidedly better, and together we made
a tour of inspection round the camp. We saw a peculiar striped rat in
the boma, which we nicknamed the zebra rat. It was mouse-coloured with
black stripes, but as we had not a trap we could not secure a specimen.
At midday George was down again with the fever, and I dosed him once
more. At 12.30 two men came back from El Hakim with a note for me. He
asked for some fresh bread and a bottle of milk, also for six more men
with rifles. It seemed that the Wa’G’nainu, the people of a district
west of Munithu, on hearing of our Embe reverse, had come down and
looted some of the trade goods which El Hakim had left in Bei-Munithu’s
charge, and that he intended to try to recover them. He also asked for
my company if I could leave camp. As George was so queer I did not
feel justified in leaving him, but on his assurance that he was quite
able to look after himself while I was away, I decided to go.
I took no baggage or blankets, and with six men and four donkeys,
which were required to bring back the balance of El Hakim’s goods
still remaining with Bei-Munithu, started at one o’clock, intending
to try to reach Munithu the same evening, though it had taken the
safari two days to reach M’thara from Munithu on the outward journey.
At sundown, after a toilsome and seemingly interminable march, my
party and I arrived at El Hakim’s camp outside Bei-Munithu’s village,
where El Hakim, pleased at our rapid journey, forthwith ministered to
my material wants in the way of towels, soap, and supper. After our
meal he summoned Bei-Munithu, and bade him recapitulate for my benefit
the story of the pillaged goods. Briefly it amounted to this: A large
party of the Wa’G’nainu had come on a friendly visit to Bei-Munithu.
During their sojourn with him a report came to hand that the Wasungu
had been driven out of Embe with great loss, and one of them had been
killed. The news caused some excitement, and, as was only natural,
the assembled natives discussed in what way the Wasungu’s supposed
misfortunes could be turned to profitable account. It was already well
known that Bei-Munithu had one of his huts filled from floor to roof
with the trade goods and equipment of the chief Wasungu, and it did not
require much persuasion to induce that venerable humbug to exhibit the
contents to his guests. The sight of so much riches naturally inflamed
the already excited cupidity of the Wa’G’nainu. The next step was
easy. In spite of Bei-Munithu’s lukewarm remonstrances, they helped
themselves liberally and departed, exulting, to their villages. The
next day El Hakim unexpectedly arrived, and, entirely unaware of what
had taken place, asked that his trade goods should be brought out for
his inspection, as he wanted to take them over to M’thara. Bei-Munithu,
with many excuses and much wringing of hands, detailed the events of
the preceding day. El Hakim was exceedingly wroth, and he there and
then wrote me the note which had brought me over.
After Bei-Munithu had retired to his village we talked matters over. El
Hakim was very much annoyed at the turn of affairs, and assured me that
this was only one of the unpleasant results of our reverse in Embe.
What others were in store for us, time alone would disclose. We decided
before we turned in that we would go early on the morrow to G’nainu and
demand our goods. We wished to proceed on the principle of _suaviter in
modo_ rather than _fortiter in re_, but if the former failed we were
determined to apply the latter without hesitation. El Hakim had taken
an inventory of the missing goods, and found that more than four loads
had disappeared. Bei-Munithu’s conduct in the affair was not above
suspicion, but we could not afford to quarrel with him just then.
At night a bed of banana leaves was made up for me on the ground in El
Hakim’s tent, which, with the addition of a couple of blankets, made
me as comfortable as possible under the circumstances. My well-earned
rest, however, was soon disturbed by the field-rats, which used me as a
playground, and continually skipped and jumped over my body and face,
to their own infinite amusement and my extreme discomfort. Two or three
times during the night I woke up and found a large rat curled up fast
asleep in the hollow of my neck or under my arm. El Hakim awoke at my
frequent and somewhat profane exclamations, and gently inquired what
was the matter. When I held forth on the drawbacks of slumber in the
savage wilds, he feigned polite incredulity, and remarked, “Shocking,
shocking! Most unfortunate delusions! Very regrettable, Hardwick,
_very_;” and turning over in his blankets, he added insult to injury
by chuckling audibly at intervals for an hour afterwards, in a most
aggravating manner.
At four o’clock next morning we roused our fourteen men, and set out
for G’nainu, some twenty or thirty of Bei-Munithu’s men accompanying
us. It was rather a rough tramp, the country being very hilly and
much cut up by ravines and streams. We crossed the river Kazeta
(which flows in a south-easterly direction through Zura at an average
altitude of 5000 feet) by a tree-trunk bridge, and at seven o’clock
reached the first village of the Wa’G’nainu and halted outside. Our
men waved green branches as a sign that we came in peace, but got no
answer, the village, which was very strongly fortified, seeming to be
entirely deserted. It was situated on the crest of a forest-covered
hill, and was surrounded by a very massive outer stockade of roughly
hewn tree-trunks with pointed tops. Inside there were two additional
stockades of pointed logs, and the huts within were also stockaded one
from the other, the whole forming a position almost impregnable to an
enemy without firearms. We waited for a while, but were unable to get
any answer to our signals, and held a consultation to decide on our
next move, but in the middle of the discussion a shower of poisoned
arrows from the surrounding bush winged their destructive way into our
midst, killing three of Bei-Munithu’s men outright; at the same time
the now familiar war-cry rose on all sides, and resounded from hilltop
to hilltop in a manner which showed us that we were fully expected.
The natives, we found afterwards, had driven off most of the stock,
which, with all their women and children, was safely out of the way on
the hills, while their husbands and fathers contentedly settled down
to a comfortable day’s fighting with the Wasungu, with the prospect of
a nice little massacre afterwards as a fitting conclusion to a most
enjoyable day.
We were compelled to quickly decide upon our course of action, as
the Munithu men were wavering, and their desertion would have meant
disaster, they alone knowing the paths. Retreat was not to be thought
of, as, taken in combination with the Embe reverse, it would have
confirmed the natives in their opinion of our helplessness, and our
prestige would be hopelessly lost. Our men summarily settled the
question by firing a volley into the surrounding bush in reply to fresh
showers of arrows. We were now in for a large-sized quarrel, and as we
did not see any immediate prospect of recovering our pillaged goods
by pacific means, we determined to avail ourselves of the opportunity
to recover at least their value, and also to punish the treacherous
Wa’G’nainu for their unprovoked attack. Accordingly we gave the word of
command, and our little force advanced at the double and captured the
village without encountering any serious opposition. Inside were a few
goats and sheep that had been left behind in the general stampede which
occurred when our arrival was first signalled. The enemy had drawn
off for reinforcements, and meanwhile contented themselves, after the
native fashion, with shouting insulting remarks, together with a list
of the various surgical operations they later on intended performing
upon our persons.
El Hakim mustered our men in the village, and divided them into two
parties, one of which he placed under my command, with orders to
forage round for more live stock, while he, at the head of the other,
held the village as a fortified base.
When I was about to select the men I required, we discovered, to our
consternation, that there were only nine instead of fourteen! Questions
elicited no information as to the whereabouts of the absentees. It
was that firebrand Sadi ben Heri and three or four of his particular
cronies who were missing. I had seen them only ten minutes before,
but where they had gone after we captured the village I could not
ascertain; however, we trusted they would turn up all right. I took
five men of our own and about a dozen of the Wa’Munithu to try to
capture some more stock in order to balance our account with the
Wa’G’nainu.
They certainly made me work for what little I captured. They disputed
every plantation and every village till I began to run short of
ammunition. Two or three of my Munithu contingent were killed, so when
I reached the next village I burnt it, just to show the enemy that they
had in no way intimidated us by their opposition; a proceeding which
heartened my men wonderfully. It was very hard work. Every village
was perched on an eminence, and in most cases reached by only one, or
at the most two, almost inaccessible paths. I proceeded all the time
at the double, so that my men should not have time to think about the
danger, and after racing up and down several hills as steep as the roof
of a house, I was fairly pumped and streaming with perspiration, in
spite of the comparatively low temperature. I captured a few head of
cattle and a hundred or so sheep and goats in the course of an hour or
two, and burnt four villages in the process; which proceeding greatly
facilitated my safe retirement to the base held by El Hakim, when I
was forced both by lack of breath and ammunition to turn my footsteps
thither.
During my retirement the enemy concentrated in force along my route,
but a few well-directed shots from my ·303 persuaded them that it was
safer to scatter and take cover. I rejoined El Hakim, and found that
he had also gathered a couple of dozen or so additional goats and
sheep, and three or four head of cattle. It was then nine o’clock in
the morning. There was no sign of the five missing men. The war-cries
and howls of the enemy were increasing rapidly in volume, and it became
more and more evident that a determined effort was to be made by them
to prevent our return. Our Munithu contingent showed unmistakable signs
of wavering, so we concluded that in the interests of our own lives and
those of our remaining men we had better put on a determined front,
and fight our way back to Munithu. We therefore burnt our temporary
headquarters, and retired in good order, trusting that the misguided
Sadi ben Heri and his equally misguided companions had already safely
retired by another route.
After leaving the village the path abruptly descended into a narrow
valley and ascended the opposite slope, winding amid thick bush, in
which large numbers of the enemy had congregated. Our first view of
them was by no means encouraging. The bush seemed alive with them. We
were at once greeted with a shower of poisoned arrows at long range,
which, though they did no bodily harm, badly shook the nerves of the
men; but El Hakim and I put in a little fancy shooting at 200 yards,
and order was soon restored. We got safely through that particular
part, but several times in the next mile or so we were greeted with
showers of arrows from concealed natives. A few shots, however,
generally persuaded them that discretion was the better part of valour.
After a tiring march, with intervals of skirmishing, we reached Munithu
with our captures intact. When we reckoned them up, however, they
barely covered the value of the trade goods stolen, to say nothing of
the expenditure of ammunition and the personal risk entailed in the
collection. We were very tired and very hungry, but before eating we
dispatched native spies to try to obtain news of the missing men. After
lunch we retired for an hour to sleep off the effects of our unusual
exertion.
FOOTNOTES:
[5] Should the reader be inclined to consider my language to be
somewhat theatrical, it must be remembered with whom I was dealing. I
knew my man, and pointed my remarks accordingly.