The entrance fronted the niche, and was led up to by a street of round
pebbles, protected on each side by semicircular loosely-thrown-up
stone walls. There was nothing left of the village but its foundation
outlines, which at once showed simplicity of construction, as well as
economy of labour in building. It lay about 50 yards to the east of
the church. One straight wall ran down the centre, from which, as
supports, ran out a number of lateral chambers lying at right angles
to it.

To the northward of the church was the cemetery, in which, strange to
say, if the Somali believe their own story, they even at the present
time bury their dead, and erect crosses at the head of the tombs, in
the same manner as we Christians do. The kiln was an artless hole in
the ground, in which there was a large collection of cinders, and
other debris not worth mentioning. Lastly, the fort, or rather remains
of what the Somali said had been one, was situated on an eminence
overlooking the village, and about 70 yards to the S.W. of the church.
Now, having completed my investigations of the ruins, I returned to
camp, where I was met by the Abban, looking as sulky as a bear with a
sore head, and frowning diabolically. He had been brooding over my
late censures, and reflecting on the consequences his bad conduct
would finally have upon him, if he could not obtain a pardon from me.
And should he not be able to elicit it by fair means, he thought at
any rate he would extract it by foul, then and there, without
condition or any clause whatever. This was preposterous. I frankly
told him exactly what I thought of him, saying I could not forget what
had happened; that he had abused the trust reposed in him by the
English, and I was bound in duty to report the whole matter in every
detail to the Government; but should he discontinue his evil ways, and
take me safely to my journey's end, I would promise him a full pardon