CHAPTER XIVTHE NORTH STAR

AN AARDVARK OR ANT-BEAR

As a rule, I found them difficult animals to secure, but was greatly aided in hunting them latterly, by coming to realise a curious trait of theirs, which was, thatif a sheep was sighted looking intently from a prominence in a certain direction it would, when it moved, surely travel in that direction. Wherefore, by making a detour, it was possible sometimes to intercept the quarry without stalking it directly.

I have seen fairly young mountain sheep in January, and believe they are dropped about the season when rains may occur, viz. August-September.

The Arui were found in Aïr at any altitude between 2,000 and 5,000 feet; but in the hottest season of the year, which reaches its climax about July, they are prone to abandon the lower altitudes and live altogether in the high summits, where it is coolest.

If rain falls at the season it is due they roam widely and come low down to browse on the short-lived green feeding that soon springs up. At such times they find pools in almost every ravine, and they are animals that are very fond of water.

Of the specimens collected all were not weighed. However, 164 lbs. was a good male, and 112 lbs. a fair female. The best horns measured just over26 inches. The Tuaregs call the AruiAfitallin Aïr, andOudelin Ahaggar.

The final aspect I will refer to, regarding the animal life of the land, is of an ordinary day in the course of travel.

We are camped in the outlying hills of Aïr. It is a region where there is no winter even in the depth of the year, but in December and January the nights are bitterly cold.

The caravan sets out at dawn on the journey of the day, and the smouldering logs of a night-fire are left behind with regret.

We start over a land of sand and rocks, with high-reaching mountain slopes some miles in the forefront.

It is too early for birds to be showing. Like ourselves, they are feeling the uncommon cold, and shelter among the bushes on the banks of the river-beds until the sun grows warm and the land returns to its accustomed stifling heat.

It is the hour for game to be abroad. In the broken-up valley land a few beautiful little Dorcas Gazelle, of the colour of the sand, are seen busy breakfasting on slim, delicate grasses that they search for in open places. They are the most numerous game in Aïr; unlike the Mountain Sheep, which in comparison are rare, owing to their shyness and the nature of their almost inaccessible haunts. These two animals are the meat-giving game to the few natives of the land. There is one other—the large and handsome white-flankedDamas Gazelle, an exceedingly timid animal that is seldom seen in an ordinary day’s travel.

If I had set out expecting to see much I should have been disappointed, for hours pass and nothing of unusual consequence is encountered. But I know Aïr as a lone, deserted land where one has to be content with little.

I read the trail as the camels move along, particularly when sheets of sand are spread before me. No one has passed ahead; no print of camel foot or donkey hoof marks the surface anywhere. The neat little cloven-hoof prints of Gazelle are fairly numerous and the feet of Field-mice have drawn countless little daisies on the sand where they have fed through the night about tussocks of grass.

Other footprints tell where a Short-Eared Hare has loped across the ground, and I see where a hungry Jackal has picked up the trail and hurried in pursuit. At a cluster of bush I find the up-turnings of a Porcupine that has been burrowing and tearing at a shrub-bottom to feed on its favourite food—the roots of the pale-limbed, big-leaved bush which the Tuaregs callTirza.

In a shallow, dried-up river-bed the camels are guided clear of a regular warren of holes scooped out in the night by a Ratel in search of dormant frogs buried in the sand a foot or two beneath the surface.

Nearing camping time the caravan reaches a terrace margin and descends a rocky slope, where the camels have difficulty in picking their way.A strange, wild valley lies in the unexpected level below, and a dry river-bed in a deep ravine. It is a drear valley-side, and the caravan passes on into the ravine below. In a cliff I find a deep, dark cave, and strike a match to enter it. It proves to be an old den of Hyenas; their footprints are on the dusty sand and the floor is littered with the bones of camels and other animals. The roof of the cave is festooned with the honeycombs of wasps, but the hives are forsaken.

By this time the journey of the day has drawn to a close, and we camp to rest and eat, and refresh both man and beast, while my skinning-table and knives are set ready for the work of the evening on specimens that, mayhap, shall add to the knowledge of the world.

Altogether, forty-two different species and subspecies of animals were collected from the Sahara and twenty-two additional varieties from the Western Sudan, on its southern shores.

In the Sahara the following mammals were collected[20]:

Twenty-two additional mammals found in the Western Sudan, on the southern margin of the Sahara, between latitudes 12° and 16°:

A DESERT FOX

CHAPTER XIVTHE NORTH STAR

To succeed in crossing the Saharawas the one great purpose of the expedition that stood out before all others from the day of starting until the end.

Consequently anxious thoughts were ever pointed to the north throughout the whole period of travel, and in due time it followed that the North Star became my most significant and constant friend.

It is known to the Tuaregs by the nameElkelzif, and on many occasions I have, with something of pride, told my camel-men, or explained to strangers of the trail, “Under that star lies my house”; and so it seemed in its distant, steadfast position. It became, in fact, the definite symbol of home, the elusive “light” of a distant land that I must ever endeavour to reach, and when it showed in the sky it was welcomed almost with affection, and always as a friend. And these feelings may be understood when it is remembered that my caravan travelled or lay beneath its guiding light for over four hundred nights, which is a long time anywhere; mayhap, oppressively long in the monotony of great solitudes.

Always, through long weary nights, the NorthStar twinkled in its steadfast place, with the pointers of “The Plough,” out-stationed like signposts, seeming to direct the traveller to take notice and take heart from the countenance of their sovereign light, that clearly gleamed over the broad highway hung from the roof of heaven.

And, always facing that friendly star, the farther my camels travelled toward it the nearer I came to the goal; until at long last great hope arose that my caravan would get through.

It was then May of the second year. The caravan had reached the Algerian Sahara and was riding hard for rail-head.

But how altered from the start was my little band and its possessions! It had been composed of thirty-six camels and fifteen natives at the commencement, in the spring of the previous year; now all the camels had gone, except Feri n’Gashi, the camel I rode. Awena, the last of the others, had fallen out on the 16th. Of the original natives only two remained: Ali, an Arab of Ghat, and Sakari, a Hausa of Kano. Lack of stamina, sickness, and failure in courage had claimed the rest at various stages of the journey. Only two died as the result of the undertaking.

When to me came hope of reaching the goal Sakari’s impression at the same moment was that he had come so far that he would never see home again.

During those latter stages it is not too much to say that Glover (the cinema operator) and I werebubbling over with happy anticipations. The most discussed subject, next to the thoughts of those who waited our coming, was our conjectures of the enjoyment we should have in eatingreal foodagain. That which appealed vastly to both of us was the prospect ofpure white bread and butter—no doubt because we had lived so long in a state of constant sandy grittiness, and had almost forgotten the taste and the delicious purity of a fresh oven-loaf. Also, during this month, we had nothing left to eat other than rice andcouscous.

“EVER HEADING INTO THE NORTH”

Shortage of food, that had been a grave problem in the past, no longer worried us, however, and gaily we laughed over the joyous thought that all those trials would soon be over. We recalled how, four months ago, the last of luxuries was down to a half-bottle of whisky and two bars of soap.

And so we plodded steadily over the last lap with big hearts, forcing the pace toward home over the still unchanging sand, despite an overpowering desire to sleep in the saddle which now beset us fitfully, partly because vitality was exhausted and partly because of the low altitude, which was now almost down to sea-level.

At last only two days and a night of serious travel lay ahead to Ouargla; thence four days to the rail-head at Touggourt.

South of Ouargla the desert lies in all its bleakness. There is yet no hint of change, though we know we are creeping swiftly in upon civilisation,and that an important oasis is almost within a stone’s-throw, which contains the Headquarters of the Territoire des Oases.

On May 29th the caravan travelled seven hours before being interrupted by a sandstorm, which forced us to camp while the sand drove over us in seething clouds. Even to the end it would seem that the sands must fight my little band.

When the storm died down in the evening we travelled again for some hours.

On the following day the caravan journeyed till noon, and camped, while heavy wind again made conditions uncomfortable. We reloaded at dusk, and by the light of a lovely moon travelled in close to Ouargla: a ride full of remembrance for me, for thoughts were active, and dwelt on the long trail behind with some regrets and sadness, and on the short trail in front with gladness; and the night was fittingly still on the heels of the turmoil of a stormy day. But lonely thoughts were almost past, and the society of mankind at hand.

In the morning we journeyed into Ouargla, coming suddenly out of the desert within sight of the low, crouching oasis. It was not an auspicious arrival. From the distance there was a subdued stillness about the place. Great heat radiated from the sun, and the oasis seemed asleep beneath its influence. The houses discerned appeared deserted. Then a solitary figure in white crossed a glaring space of sand and passed out of sight; and all was still again.

NORTH AFRICAIN-SALAH MARKET

NORTH AFRICA

IN-SALAH MARKET

While we were marvelling over this curious lack of movement, a small knot of people at last detached themselves from beneath the shade of a group of date-palms, and in time we made out that they were riding horses and coming towards us. It proved to be the Officer in Command at Ouargla and some Arab officials. We were offered a very warm welcome, and I learned that my host was Captain Belvalette.

We were duly ushered to the fort and allotted real houses to camp in: a foretaste of the change before us. But that the change would not always be acceptable, at first, I realised when night came, and I tossed and turned within the stuffy space of four walls. My wish was then for the untrammelled star-lit sky.

During that day, and the next, we enjoyed the hospitality of Captain Belvalette and his wife, who left no stone unturned to make us thoroughly welcome and comfortable. We left those kind folks on June 2nd with gratitude and regret, and travelled constantly until we reached Touggourt in the forenoon of the 5th, which was the last day we mounted camels. And the record of the distance that my caravan had travelled from rail-head to rail-head was 3,556 miles; not including all the side-hunting that necessarily falls to the lot of the naturalist in the field.

Baggage was off-loaded for the last time, before a group of curious strangers that soon collected, recognising that we had come from afar. Whenthey had ascertained that we had travelled all the way from the West Coast of Africa they gaped at us as if we were unreal.

About midday I parted from my camel, Feri n’Gashi, to whom I was tremendously attached, for he had faithfully carried me throughout the journey. He seemed to understand that the end had come, and it was a strange, sad-eyed farewell between master and dumb friend, with strong desire to remain together in my thoughts, and, I think, in his. I know I had a lump in my throat, and as for him—well, he could not tell me that which he wished to say.

He looked well, considering all he had gone through, and I sent him away to enjoy a well-earned rest, having arranged with Captain Belvalette that he should return to Ouargla and be cared for so long as he lived. I had no inkling of the rapid sequel. The rest he was to have was of another order, for in the afternoon Ali came running to me in consternation to tell thatFeri n’Gashi was dead.[21]I could not believe it, and was deeply moved when I came to understand that it was only too true; Ali was almost as much concerned, for he was a good native, with a very active and sensitive mind. He held my camel in high esteem because of its splendid service throughout the journey, and he had watched and comprehended the intimacy that had grown up between master and camel.

NORTH AFRICASCENE IN OUARGLA

NORTH AFRICA

SCENE IN OUARGLA

In Ali’s view it was: “The will of Allah.”

“You see, Master, he has died while sitting as usual on the ground. He has passed in complete peace. He has neither struggled nor turned over, as is the way of camels; his head has simply fallen forward. . . . Is it not Kismet? He has always been ridden by the big white master, and it is not fit that black man go ride him after that—so he go die.”

Feri n’Gashi’s death cast a heavy cloud over our thoughts for the remainder of the day. Nevertheless, we had much to occupy us in other directions, for we proposed catching the train which left for the coast that night. All our strange assortment of outdoor baggage had to be relieved of their camel trappings and made to look as respectable as possible, then labelled and conveyed down the dusty track to the station. It was dark before the task was done.

Glover and I then enjoyed a square meal at the wood-framed “Hôtel Oases,” and laid in some supplies for the journey; particularly French cigarettes and drinks.

At 9 p.m. the train departed from Touggourt for Algiers, bearing the stock of weather-worn possessions of an expedition, and four tattered, but tolerably healthy-looking wanderers—Glover, myself, and the two natives, Ali and Sakari. The two latter were vastly intrigued with their new mode of travel, particularly with the idea of their sitting still while they flew over the country without thenecessity of their doing a stroke of work or undergoing a moment’s physical fatigue.

During the journey one thing made us all as delighted and happy as children—the wonderful green landscape after leaving Biskra. We never tired of feasting our eyes on the uncommon beauty of the countryside, so green with cultivation, and even decked with flowers. To our sand-tired vision it was a marvellous sight, and we knew then, undoubtedly, that we had left the desert behind.

On June 7th we reached Algiers, and were met by the British Vice-Consul, Mr. Gallienne, who gave us a real welcome. He was a man of wonderful foresight, for we had just exchanged greetings when he put his hand in his pocket and produced some English tobacco, saying: “I thought you might be in need of this.” We were so much in need of it that we almost embraced the poor man in our joy. Tobacco had been our most difficult “want” to cope with for many months.

One thing tickled Gallienne’s imagination. I caught him looking at me; whereupon he explained: “You know, I had pictured youlean, and about seven feet tall, and with a broad Scot’s accent. You are certainlylean, but I’ll need to take quite a foot off that stature; as for your accent, it’s no’ verra hieland.”

He was indeed a real good soul, for, when we got into quarters, he set out on all sorts of strange errands, and seemed to enjoy the fun of dress rehearsal in preparing two tattered ragamuffinsfor the exacting stage of civilisation. Collars, ties, shirts, underclothing, hats: all are difficult articles to choose for other men at any time, but more than difficult when the persons they are intended for have forgotten the sizes of everything they used to wear.

BUCHANANAT THE END OF THE JOURNEY

BUCHANAN

AT THE END OF THE JOURNEY

Those were crowded hours of wonderful joy, such as only men may experience who come in at last from the long trail.

And when I lay down to sleep at night,in a bed incredibly soft, my thoughts were overflowing with gratitude that I had lived for this day.

And then I remembered my little friend in the sky, and rising, drew aside the window-blind to find the North Star in its steadfast place gleaming down on picturesque Algiers, and gleaming too, I knew, above a certain Highland village, now no longer remote, . . . and in my mind nestled the thought that the most beautiful place on earth, even to those who wander, is Home.

And, relating to this final period, my wife writes:

“Over thirteen months had passed since my husband had sailed, and the homecoming seemed near; and a very beautiful thought to dream about. The months that had passed had been anxious ones, but always full of hope. However, now I was growing troubled. Letters had always been irregular, but for three whole months I had received no mail or news of any kind. Although my husband had warned me this might happen when he was in the interior, I felt uneasy.

“On April 11th I had a strange presentiment. I was sitting by the fire, sewing, in the evening, when something impelled me to look up at my husband’s photograph which hangs over the fireplace. He seemed to cry ‘Olga!’ three times distinctly, and I felt sure he was ill, and calling me. I went to bed that night very sad and miserable. Sleep was impossible, and always his vision appeared before me. When morning came I put on a brave face and tried to forget the uneasy feelings I had had all night. Just as I started my breakfast I received a cable from Fort Tamanrasset, via Algiers, which threw some light on my strange presentiment. It stated that my husband was badly injured, and would have to abandon further travel.

“Never, never shall I forget that day; everything seemed black and all my hopes shattered. I had been brave for long, but now my heart seemed to fail me, and I was foolish enough to think the worst would happen and he would never return.

“My wee daughter Sheila was my great consoler. With her wee arms tightly round my neck, she would always whisper: ‘It’s all right, Mummie. Daddy will come home to us soon, soon.’

“However, in spite of these fears I afterwards received another message which was much more assuring, for it told that my husband was proceeding, and even continuing to hunt. (Which I learned from his servant, afterwards, he did on crutches and by shooting from his camel.)

“Time seemed to fly on then; and the Consul-General of Algiers, Sir Basil Cave, very kindly advised me when he got news that my husband was safely through to the north.

“On June 7th I received a most exciting cable from my husband at Algiers, telling me of his safearrival, and that he would land on the following Monday at Dover. It is quite impossible for me to express just what my feelings were when I read the glorious news. All the weary months of waiting were swept aside with the joy of homecoming.

T. A. GLOVERCINEMATOGRAPHER WITH THE EXPEDITION

T. A. GLOVER

CINEMATOGRAPHER WITH THE EXPEDITION

“The following night I went south to London, hardly knowing how to wait for Monday to come. On Perth station I was very proud and happy when I saw on the placards:

“‘SCOTTISH EXPLORER CROSSES THE SAHARA’

The porters and inspectors were full of excitement, for most of them knew my husband, and more than one eagerly helped me with my luggage and packed me off happy to meet the man they had sent on his journey sixteen months before.

“June 11th arrived at last, a glorious hot June day. I travelled from Charing Cross to Dover, and, while going down in the train, I read a paragraph inThe Timeswhich made me wonder if I was a day too soon. It stated that my husband had arrived in Paris and was due in London the following Tuesday evening. This was Monday, and I kept wondering, all the way down, if I was to be disappointed when the Channel steamer came in.

“Arriving at Dover, in company with Mrs. Glover, the cinema operator’s wife, we discovered it was impossible to get on the quay without a permit, which, in my excitement, I had omitted to obtain in London. I was told I must see the Marine Superintendent and get a pass from him. Entering a small office, I stood and waited anxiously. Presently a big, burly, seafaring man entered froman inner room. Scrutinising me with stern eyes he gruffly demanded my business. In a very nervous and anxious manner I explained I had come to meet my husband. That information seemed to produce not the slightest effect, and I had a dreadful feeling that my request would be refused point-blank. Realising this, I made another attempt, and told how my husband had been away sixteen months, and that I did so wish to meet the incoming boat. I was answered by silence, while I could feel those eyes trying to read me through. At last, turning sharply, he said ‘Humph! We have lots of people like you here’; and then, to a man at his elbow, ‘Write out a pass.’

“At 5 p.m. the boat came slowly in alongside the quay.

“What a moment! I shall never forget it! There seemed hundreds of faces on board, but only one that counted for me. Leaning over the rail, with eyes keenly searching among the waiting crowd, stood my husband, burnt almost black with the scorching sun of the Sahara. It was a wonderful moment, and meeting, full of suppressed emotion, each feeling that at last the great trek was done, and now we could look to home and comforts that had for so long been impossible.

“After the first joy of our meeting was over, I was amazed and somewhat bewildered to see two natives in their strange and picturesque native dress following as close to my husband as space would allow. They beamed broadly when they saw me and realised I was their master’s wife, and at once proceeded to salaam to me with deep bows to the ground. They followed my husband all through the Customs, so closely that they gave onethe impression that if they missed him for a single minute they would be lost for ever.

SAKARIBUCHANANFERI N’GASHIALITOGETHER TO THE END

SAKARIBUCHANANFERI N’GASHIALI

TOGETHER TO THE END

“I asked one if he felt cold. He replied: ‘Yes, Miss—plenty cold.’ (Which may tell of the heat of the Sahara, for it was a lovely June day.) He then explained that: ‘Master be plenty strong, and in Sahara go walk, walk, walk all the time; and after that plenty work—he never go for sleep.’ These thoughts seemed to be uppermost in his mind.

“At this point the Marine Superintendent came up to me and, with an ingratiating smile, remarked that I was all right now. Then he told me that he had read in the morning’s paper of my husband’s trip, and that it had been well worth while to watch our happy meeting, and to realise what the pass meant to me. He then shook my husband warmly by the hand, and we all stood chatting together.

“Afterwards we proceeded to London and, following a brief stay, which seemed to be full of interviews with the Press, and in every way a whirl of excitement, we came at last home to Scotland and the restfulness of a Highland village.

“Our wee girl Sheila ran to the gate to meet us, and the faithful old Labrador, Niger, who was overjoyed at sight of his long-lost master. . . . And all the long, weary months of waiting were forgotten, and the lovely thought stood out that the object of the expedition had been achieved, and we were once again to be together.”

CHAPTER XVCIVILISATION

Whattremendous import lies behind the single word that heads this final chapter! Indeed, it may be the key-word to the whole future of the universe, for civilisation, or rather, over-civilisation, is swaying the world from all reasonable balance, while we drift with the tide, or struggle unheard: and no plan evolves to set back the engulfing flood.

I have a dictionary before me which clearly states that to civilise is:

“To reclaim from barbarism; to instruct in arts and refinements.”

If civilisation succeeded to that end alone it would be a happy world indeed. But has not the so-called civilisation of to-day decidedly turned toward other intents altogether, where greed and selfishness largely play an absorbing part?

This may be said not only of our own land, but of the whole of the civilised world, which feels the weight of industrial despondency, and I dwell on these thoughts without rancour toward my fellows, for no one can foretell the purpose of evolution.

Fortunate are those who can accept the circumstances of life with grave thoughtfulness rather than consternation; and that is a rich teaching, learned, so far as I am concerned, in the world’s wilderness, where life is sweet and realities naked. To those whose lot it is to look on, how empty seems the frantic blame of parliament that succeeds parliament in the government of countries, and how like the howlings of wolves who have lost the trail to more successful competitors who have gone ahead. For parliaments, when all is said and done, strive to make the best of the material in their hands; and that material is largely concerned with complex humanity, which no human power shall ever completely content.

Wherefore it is the clamourings of the wolves that is, as an empty noise, to be condemned as wholly unworthy of any peace-loving community that would prosper. It is they who are out to prey, and, dissatisfied, unscrupulous, hungry for spoil, they care neither for honour nor what they wreck to gain their gluttonous ends.

But if my wanderings far afield have taught me anything, it is that we each of us have in our own keeping a very precious possession that either brightens or slurs our environment. I refer to individual character, which is, after all, since units make the mass, the source that shall always decide the nature and ideals of society. Hence, be circumstances what they may, the individual character has it in its power to be a significant force inthe universe;so long as it is strong, and of sterling worthiness.

Wherefore, may it not be that the restlessness and dissatisfaction of modern life is in a minority of characters that are weak and lacking in manliness, and from that source are forthcoming the extremists whose insane attacks on all things as they exist destroy the confidence and tranquillity upon which all true progress flourishes?

There is no denying that there is a mean spirit abroad at the present time, a bad patch of inferior material, as it were; but I cannot believe it is anything more serious than that. And therein lies my faith that the simple meaning of civilisation shall one day be recovered, so that men may turn to their dictionaries again, and comprehend when they read that to civilise is:

“To reclaim from barbarism; to instruct in arts and refinements.”

My chief concern, however, in approaching this subject is to enter on some strange outside impressions of our country, come by in a curious way, in the hope that they may help to show that dissatisfaction with one’s lot is not always justified, and that it is usually possible to find others in circumstances worse than one’s own.

I thought I knew what was meant by poverty before I went to the Sahara (for my life had not been an easy one), but the Great Desert and its people taught me otherwise. Wherefore, when thesudden transition came and I left behind that land of primitive people and ancient customs to regain the heart of civilisation, it was an experience that keyed up the senses to acute receptiveness and tremendous appreciation. Everything was a luxury; everything accepted with thankfulness, and one quarter of the most humble of the comforts that came my way would have filled me with equal content.

So may it be when the mind of man has learned humbleness from a background of desert that holdsnothing.

But, if the sudden change of environment was full of incident in my case, it can be readily conceived that Ali’s and Sakari’s first view of civilisation was even more exciting, and filled them with astonishment and wonder.

The lifelong background, to them, was primitive Africa. Previous to joining the caravan they had both lived for many years in Kano, the great Hausa trade centre of Northern Nigeria, and one of the most remarkable native cities in the world. An environment of humble, low, mud-walled huts and narrow sandy lanes had always been theirs, and heat and flies and a dense population, with meagre sufficiency of food, their intimate atmosphere. To them luxury was unknown, and, not knowing it, they were happy. Indeed, Kano is a town of laughter, and its people healthy and content amid a humbleness and simplicity that is as yet unspoiled, and natural to them.

GOOD-BYE TO AFRICA

The language familiar to Ali and Sakari is Hausa; though Arabic is the native tongue of the former. However, for the purpose in view, Hausa will not serve, and therefore, in endeavouring to give some of their impressions of this country as closely as possible, I will, in the main, have recourse to theirPidgin English. To give some idea of this curious and amusing African patois, I will, before proceeding to the main subject, cite some expressions that were familiar during the late expedition:

“Wait small,” i.e. Wait a little.

“He live small,” i.e. The meal is not quite ready.

“Time no reach,” i.e. It is not yet the time appointed.

“Excuse me small,” i.e. Please give room to let me pass.

“He no live,” i.e. When someone cannot be found when wanted.

“This day I beblackall over,” i.e. In a bad temper. (No reference to colour.)

“Them French be palava people,” i.e. Talkative people.

“Jeasers,” i.e. Scissors.

Sakari, when asked if he has cleaned my gun:

“I done dust him, sir!

”

Sakari, telling he has looked for a lost knife:

“Them knife: I find him all, I no look him.”

Sakari, when asked if he has found a lost button:

“You make I find him for them place this morning; I find him, I no see him.”

Sakari, having brought a local native to me who can mend a broken frying-pan:

“Look this man! Him say he fit go make them fry pan well.”

Sakari, describing that two men are brothers:

“The mother what born him be mother for that man, too. Them all belong one mother.”

Sakari, referring to one of the camel-men who is exhausted:

“All him strong gone.”

Sakari, referring to the state of my wardrobe when everything is in rags:

“All them clothes broke.”

Sakari, when asked if he has properly killed a lizard before skinning it, chuckled and replied:

“No, sir! Him hard for die.”

“Where is the butter, Sakari?”

“He go die,” i.e. It is finished.

Native, asking for a shilling with the head of Queen Victoria on it:

“I want them money with woman that live for inside.”

Native, having difficulty to cook in a high wind:

“This breeze no fit let them fire stand up.”

Native, detecting that something is burning:

“Some cloth go burn? I hear him smell.”

All through the expedition the natives had to crush their own grain into meal—always the woman’s task at home. One day I said to Sakari:

“Now you savvy how to beat them meal plenty fine you will be able to save your wife much work.”

He replied:

“Oh no, sir! When I go catch Kano again I lose him sense plenty quick. I no be fool go tell my wife that.”

With two unsophisticated worthies like Ali and Sakari, fresh from the wilderness, I had to be prepared for anything when we landed in England. To say that they were excited and astonished would be putting it mildly indeed. They were amazed. In Hausa, when addressing me, or inpidgin English, when speaking to others, they expressed bewilderment of all they saw, and were as delighted as children on an eventful holiday. Everything was novel to them. Everything required explanation.

On the way up to town we had the first inkling of amusing incidents in store. The event was unexpected. The train suddenly rushed into a tunnel and simultaneously my natives, who surely thought the end had come, were stricken dumb with fear. When the train regained the daylight Sakari was sitting drawn up in a corner with big, frightened eyes, and he gasped:

“O master! I think this train no go take the right road.”

On reaching London, quarters were found for Ali and Sakari in Gower Street. They were disappointed and almost alarmed when they learned that they could no longercampbeside me, and uneasy at the thought of being separated. Ali’s greatest concern was that he could no longer follow my footprints:

“This no beTenere[desert], Master! If you are lost, how I be fit go see your foot on these rocks?” (paved streets).

However, I assured them I would come and see them each day, and with that they had to be content.

During the forenoon of the next day I saw them again. Both complained of stiff necks.

“What’s the matter?” I queried.

They grinned broadly, and replied:

“Yesterday we go walk and walk, and all time we go look for top them high house; O Master, they be plenty fine past house of Kano.Them house tall plenty, plenty; but to-day neck be sick. Only way man fit go look for up proper be for him lie down on road [street] same same as when sleep for camp.”

The endless streets lined with innumerable houses were further source of wonderment. On one occasion, after walking for an hour or so through a maze of closely built thoroughfares, they came out into Regent’s Park to exclaim:

“Ah! now we go lookthe desert of London; this ground no have house for him.”

In the streets they expressed surprise that everyone ate indoors and that no one was seen sitting down to food by the side of the open thoroughfare, as was common enough in their own country.

The huge population of the metropolis also came in for much comment, and they speedily realised that there were more people in London than in the whole of Kano emirate.

GLOVERBUCHANANBACK TO CIVILISED CLOTHES

GLOVERBUCHANAN

BACK TO CIVILISED CLOTHES

One day, Ali informed me that:

“There be plenty plenty people for this town who all be different, and who sit and say nothing.”

This I could not comprehend, until slowly it dawned on me that he was referring tothe monuments of London—“The people who sit and say nothing.”

While on the subject of monuments, the first silver currency in Nigeria had the head of Queen Victoria on the one side, and hence the shilling became widely known among the Hausa natives asSilli mai mammie(the shilling that has the mother). One day, when passing Buckingham Palace, Ali and Sakari came in view of the monument of Queen Victoria. At once they recognised the head, and excitedly pointed and exclaimed:

“Look there! It is the lady of the shilling.”

I doubt if anyone could have guessed what would be the three very first things to strike deeply upon the imaginations of Ali and Sakari when they first entered London.

They were:Policemen in uniform, wax models, and babies in perambulators.

The police were:

“Magic men, who, when they go put up hand, they fit go stop all the people.”

Wax models:

“English magic. This people savvy how to make woman same same for live.”

Babies in perambulators were remarkable becauseof the novelty of seeing infants carefully wheeled “in small motor-car” with a nurse in attendance, for in their own country their youngsters are carried on the backs of the womenfolk, or more or less left to take their chance of life by the hut doors.

Of all they saw, then and thereafter, Ali and Sakari frankly concluded, times without number:

“Ki! White men go catch plenty plenty sense! All savvy work plenty fine. They be kings of work—all!” “All the people go catch money for this country. It plenty sweet past our country.”

And these were impressions they eventually carried back to spread far afield. And in this way, all unbeknown, the character of a nation may sometimes go forth broadcast before the world.

From London, Ali and Sakari accompanied me to my home in Scotland. They were made comfortable in an adjoining outhouse, and allotted a suitable place to make a camp-fire outdoors, where they delighted to sit and cook their meals in natural fashion.

Here, again, their pleasure in everything new afforded constant amusement.

Scotland does not lack for water. The river Tay, flowing near the house, was a feast indeed for eyes that well knew the drawbacks of an arid land, and the dreadful thirst of the desert. And the two natives were content to sit for hours, lost in contemplation of the swiftly flowing perpetual waterthat would represent unbounded prosperity if only it could be transported to their own land.

But this worship of water had its drawbacks when Ali made the gleeful discovery that all he had to do to get water in the house was to turn on a tap. Thereafter we caught him, repeatedly, standing wrapt before the scullery sink with taps full on watching to see:

“If them water be fit ever go run dry.”

When it rained thoughts always veered to the Sahara, and more than once Ali remarked:

“Allah send plenty rain for this country, and so He go forget the desert all the time.

“Suppose Sahara fit look this rain all the people catch plenty food.”

During the first morning at home I took the two natives on to the golf-course. For a little time they walked, feeling the closely knit turf under their feet, then they dropped to their knees and ran their hands over the grass, looking about them with delight.

“Ki! All be grass, master! All the ground find him plenty good. The eye sees not sand anywhere; not even between the blades.”

“Here be plenty plenty food forRakumi” (camels).

“In the desert this be all sand for sure, and no grass. So, so, all time Allah give plenty good things for this country.”

On another occasion I took them out to look on while ferreting rabbits. I had also my retriever with me. When the first rabbit was shot,however, there was no need to send the dog to fetch it, for there was a wild scramble on the part of both the boys, who reached the “bunny” together, and straightway proceeded to cut its throat in true Mohammedan fashion. A second rabbit was treated in the same way, and then the two worthies were quite ready to set off home.

Half an hour later, while the rabbits were still warm, I found my followers beside their camp-fires in the yard with their prizes skinned and pierced on sticks, roasting before the blaze. This was their idea ofa real feast of fresh meat, and the first they had had an opportunity of enjoying to the full since they had landed in the country.

But they were never difficult to please with food, and their usual dish, eaten twice a day, about 11 a.m. and again in the evening, consisted usually of butcher meat mixed with rice, potatoes, cloves, nutmeg, and plenty of olive oil. This strangely seasoned mixture was of their own choosing and was:

“Sweet past food for Kano.”

My wife tried to induce them to eat with knives and forks, but they were much more at home with their fingers.

Sheep are the choice animals for ceremonial sacrifice in their own land. Hence they cast longing eyes on the black-faced variety that pastured on the hills near my home, and kept asking me to kill one for them forSadaka(almsgiving); and so that they might take the skin to Nigeria:

“To show all the people for Kano the plenty fine hair [wool] that live forRago[sheep] in England.”

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