his wife, springing from her tent, utters a long shrill scream of joy, a preliminary to boasting of her man's valour, and bitterly taunting the other possessors of noirs fainéants: the derided ladies abuse their lords with peculiar virulence, and the lords fall into paroxysms of envy, hatred, and malice. During my short stay at Zayla six or seven murders were committed close to the walls: the Abban brought news, a few hours before our departure, that two Ísas had been slaughtered by the Habr Awal. The Ísa and Dankali also have a blood feud, which causes perpetual loss of life. But a short time ago six men of these two tribes were travelling together, when suddenly the last but one received from the hindermost a deadly spear-thrust in the back. The wounded man had the presence of mind to plunge his dagger in the side of the wayfarer who preceded him, thus dying as the people say, in company. One of these events throws the country into confusion, for the vendetta is rancorous and bloody, as in ancient Germany or in modern Corsica, Our Abban enlarged upon the unpleasant necessity of travelling all night towards the hills, and lying perdu during the day. The most dangerous times are dawn and evening-tide: the troopers spare their horses during the heat, and themselves during the dew-fall. Whenever, in the desert—where, says the proverb, all men are enemies—you sight a fellow-creature from afar, you wave the right arm violently up and down, shouting, "War Joga! War joga!" stand still! stand still! If they halt, you send a parliamentary to within speaking distance. Should they advance,[1] you fire, taking especial care not to miss; when two saddles are emptied the rest are sure to decamp.
- ↑ When attacking cattle, the plundering party endeavour with shouts and noise to disperse the herds, whilst the assailants huddle them together, and attempt to face the danger in parties.
