was a renowned "howarti" or harpooner of hippopotami. This magnificent
old man might have been Neptune himself. He stood about six feet two,
and his grizzled locks hung upon his shoulders in thick, and massive
curls, while his deep bronze features could not have been excelled in
beauty of outline. A more classical figure I have never beheld than the
old Abou Do with his harpoon as he first breasted the torrent, and then
landed dripping from the waves to join our party from the Arab camp on
the opposite side of the river. In addition to my Tokrooris, I had
engaged nine camels, each with a separate driver, of the Hamrans, who
were to accompany us throughout the expedition. These people were glad
to engage themselves, with their camels included, at one and a half
dollars per month, for man and beast as one. We had not sufficient
baggage to load five camels, but four carried a large supply of corn for
our horses and people.

Hardly were we mounted and fairly started than the monkey-like agility
of our aggageers was displayed in a variety of antics, that were far
more suited to performances in a circus than to a party of steady and
experienced hunters, who wished to reserve the strength of their horses
for a trying journey.

Abou Do was mounted on a beautiful Abyssinian horse, a gray; Suleiman
rode a rough and inferior-looking beast; while little Jali, who was the
pet of the party, rode a gray snare, not exceeding fourteen hands in
height, which matched her rider exactly in fire, spirit, and speed.
Never was there a more perfect picture of a wild Arab horseman than Jali
on his mare. Hardly was he in the saddle than away flew the mare over
the loose shingles that formed the dry bed of the river, scattering the
rounded pebbles in the air from her flinty Hoofs, while her rider in the
vigour of delight threw himself almost under her belly while at full