Principles of Highway Engineering and Traffic Analysis 4th Edition Mannering Solutions Manual
Principles of Highway Engineering and Traffic Analysis 4th Edition Mannering Solutions Manual
Principles of Highway Engineering and Traffic Analysis 4th Edition Mannering Solutions Manual
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Solutions Manual
to accompany
Principles of Highway Engineering and Traffic Analysis, 4e
By
Fred L. Mannering, Scott S. Washburn, and Walter P. Kilareski
Chapter 2
Road Vehicle Performance
Metric Units
Copyright © 2008, by John Wiley & Sons, Inc. All rights reserved.
• The ‘:=’ (colon-equals) is an assignment operator, that is, the value of the variable or
expression on the left side of ‘:=’is set equal to the value of the expression on the right
side. For example, in the statement, L := 1234, the variable ‘L’ is assigned (i.e., set equal
to) the value of 1234. Another example is x := y + z. In this case, x is assigned the value
of y + z.
• The ‘=’ (bold equals) is used when the Mathcad function solver was used to find the value
of a variable in the equation. For example, in the equation
, the = is used to tell Mathcad that the value of the
expression on the left side needs to equal the value of the expression on the right side.
Thus, the Mathcad solver can be employed to find a value for the variable ‘t’ that satisfies
this relationship. This particular example is from a problem where the function for arrivals
at some time ‘t’ is set equal to the function for departures at some time ‘t’ to find the time
to queue clearance.
• The ‘=’ (standard equals) is used for a simple numeric evaluation. For example, referring
to the x := y + z assignment used previously, if the value of y was 10 [either by assignment
(with :=), or the result of an equation solution (through the use of =) and the value of z was
15, then the expression ‘x =’ would yield 25. Another example would be as follows: s :=
1800/3600, with s = 0.5. That is, ‘s’ was assigned the value of 1800 divided by 3600
(using :=), which equals 0.5 (as given by using =).
Another symbol you will see frequently is ‘→’. In these solutions, it is used to perform an
evaluation of an assignment expression in a single statement. For example, in the following
statement, , Q(t) is assigned the value of
Arrivals(t) – Departures(t), and this evaluates to 2.2t – 0.10t2.
Finally, to assist in quickly identifying the final answer, or answers, for what is being asked in the
problem statement, yellow highlighting has been used (which will print as light gray).
1
www.mathcad.com
Solutions Manual to accompany Principles of Highway Engineering and Traffic Analysis, 4e,
by Fred L. Mannering, Scott S. Washburn, and Walter P. Kilareski.
Copyright © 2008, by John Wiley & Sons, Inc. All rights reserved.
Solutions Manual to accompany Principles of Highway Engineering and Traffic Analysis, 4e,
by Fred L. Mannering, Scott S. Washburn, and Walter P. Kilareski.
Copyright © 2008, by John Wiley & Sons, Inc. All rights reserved.
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THE WELLS AT THE FOOT OF GEBAL ARANG.
See p. 18.
I had slept in the open by choice and felt it a luxury to awake on the
following morning with no prospect of a fatiguing journey. At seven
o’clock on December 20 we met again at Mr. Flemming’s house, and
busied ourselves with amateur photography.
“You are the last white men I shall see until June next year,” said
our host, “so I want to keep your faces.”
After breakfast we proceeded to the selection of seventeen
“boys,” who were to go up with our donkeys from Gallabat to
Abyssinia. The character of the country beyond the frontier of the
Soudan renders transit by camel impossible. It struck me as an
interesting fact, not without a bearing upon the doctrine of Evolution,
that the change from a flat or undulating to a mountainous region is
here accompanied not only by a variation in the means of access, in
the climate, in the flora and fauna, but in the race of inhabitants and
the creed which they profess. In fact, the highlands of Abyssinia may
be said to constitute “an island on the land,” if one may borrow the
phrase which Darwin applied to the peaks of the Andes. And a
similar peculiarity in the survival of types can be observed here as
that to which the great biologist referred in the other connection.
Mansfield Parkyns pointed out that the Abyssinians were, in his
time, poor swordsmen, ridiculous in their practice of musketry and
frequently wanting in genuine courage.[12] Their country has
constantly been the scene of civil war and other dissensions. Indeed
the Jews among them, to whom I shall refer in another chapter, at
one time established a separate state in the “mountain fastnesses of
Semien and Belusa, where, under their own kings and queens called
Gideon and Judith, they maintained till the beginning of the
seventeenth century a chequered and independent existence.”[13]
In spite of these hindrances and deficiencies the Abyssinian
people, government and creed, have survived among heights
protected on one side by the sea and on the other by a tract of
country which is uninhabitable and impassable from May to
September, on account of the incessant torrential rains and the
floods which they cause. If these favouring conditions had not
existed, the Abyssinian nation would long ago have been “converted”
to Islamism or exterminated, and in the former case they would have
become assimilated by consanguinity to, if not merged in, the
surrounding Arab and negroid tribes. As it is, the Abyssinians form,
ethnologically, an entirely distinct race.
This digression has carried me a long way from the “donkey-boys”
at Gedaref. They were paraded to the number of a hundred for our
inspection—Dongolis, Abyssinians, Tokrooris, Dinkas, Hadendowas,
men from every clan in the district. An uglier-looking crowd I never
beheld, and, as I gazed at the sinister, villainous faces, I hoped
rather than believed that our choice of seventeen would not include
robbers or murderers. We adopted the plan of choosing one or two
men from each of the different races. Experience showed that the
policy was sound, for no tribal quarrel was raised during our journey
in Abyssinia. None of the groups was strong enough to commence a
feud with confidence.
The business of selection was completed after the haggling and
confusion inseparable from a bargain among Orientals, and I spent
most of the remainder of this and the following day in acquainting
myself with the features of life in Gedaref. As this place is a type of
the more important towns in the Soudan, in which Great Britain has a
permanent interest, I hope the reader will tolerate the transcription of
a few of my notes.
The inhabitants number about eight thousand, and live—to use
Mr. Dufton’s description—“in a number of scattered villages, the
principal called Hellet-es-Sook, or the market town.”[14] The
dwellings in this part of the Soudan and in Abyssinia are of the same
construction, and I cannot better convey a conception of their
simplicity and their appearance to those of my readers who have not
seen them than by quoting the following passage from Mr. Dufton’s
work:—“Some of the houses are built of sun-dried bricks and have
flat roofs, but most of them” (almost all in Western Abyssinia) “are
conical thatched huts. The latter are made in the following manner:—
In the first place a circle of about twenty feet diameter is described
on the ground and surrounded by strong posts, each a yard apart,
which are interlaced with thin pliable branches of trees, the whole
being covered outwardly with durrha stalks, tied together with the
long grass common on the banks of the river. A roof is formed in
skeleton on the ground. A number of beams, corresponding to that of
the posts, are made to converge at the top, and are held in this
position by concentric circles of plaited twigs; the whole being then
raised to its position on the house, where it is fastened and made
ready to receive the thatch of straw and grass. Not a nail or rivet of
any kind is used in the construction of these buildings, and they are
rendered totally impervious to the wet. Of course their disadvantage
in comparison with mud houses is their liability to catch fire, one or
two cases of which I have witnessed; but they are generally built at
sufficient distance not to endanger others, and a house of this
description is rebuilt in a day or two.”[15] Hence the scattered
appearance of the huts. They cover a distance some five miles in
length at Gedaref. These dwellings are called “tokhuls,” and I shall
have occasion to allude to them frequently under that name. In the
Soudan storks build their nests round the upper part of the roofs, and
are not molested.
In Mr. Dufton’s time an open-air market was held twice a week in
Gedaref. He thus describes it:—“One part is devoted to the sale of
camels, cattle, sheep, and goats; another to that of corn and durrha;
another milk and butter; another raw cotton, dates, etc. The butcher
slaughters his meat on the spot, whether ox, sheep, or camel. The
camel is killed somewhat differently from the rest; for it may well be
imagined that a camel with merely its throat cut might be a long while
in dying. They therefore adopt the mode of striking it with a long knife
at once to the heart, having previously taken care to tie his long legs
in a manner that he cannot move.”[16]
The commerce of the place has been resuscitated since the
British and Egyptian occupation. The market is now held daily. In
addition there are the usual bazaars of an Oriental town. Gedaref
has the advantage of possessing wells from which water of good
quality is drawn. The place suffered severely in the time of the
Dervishes. They raided the district as often as their supplies ran low,
ruined the cultivation, and destroyed the greater part of the
habitations.
The people seemed to be peaceable and contented under the
present administration, and I was struck by their politeness towards
Europeans. As we passed, they rose, if they were squatting on the
ground; those riding dismounted as a token of respect; those who
were at work discontinued it and stood still.
There are a certain number of shops in the town kept by Greeks.
The commerce of the Eastern Soudan is almost entirely in the hands
of Hellenes, who import goods by way of Suakim. The merchandise
is brought up the country by camel-train. The articles most in request
among the natives are cheap mirrors, tumblers, coloured silk
handkerchiefs and similar goods—in short, cheap finery and cheap
small commodities. I am not a commercial man, and do not speak
upon the point with certainty, but I think German houses meet this
demand. The Greek retailers also carry on a brisk trade in olives,
which are imported in barrels. Olives and bread are the staple of the
diet of many Soudanese, and they eat this simple food with relish.
We found that we could purchase sugar, taken from the familiar
sugar-loaf, soap, similar sundries and tinned provisions at Gedaref. I
was pleased to observe—for my own sake and that of British
enterprise—that the latter bore the trade-mark of Messrs. Crosse
and Blackwell.
My impression with regard to commercial opportunities in these
towns is that a northern-bred storekeeper could not compete with the
Greek retailer. I do not refer, in making this inference, especially to
the singular astuteness of the latter. But it is an important
consideration that these men are able to live almost on the same
scale as the natives, and their profits are due to the frugality of their
life.
We managed to start our baggage-train on the journey from
Gedaref to Gallabat by a quarter to eight on the morning of the 22nd
December. Then we breakfasted with Mr. Flemming, and mounted
our camels to take the road again at 9.15. We moved forward at a
trot, and I, now making trial of my fourth “steed,” found I had good
luck for the second time. But I do not think that any one could devote
to the camel the affection which is so readily given to a horse after a
brief acquaintance. The animal with the “sculptured sneer” does not
invite friendship. It grunts and grimaces when one mounts, and the
rider can be under no illusion as to its sentiment towards him.
We saw some ariel, and my companions gave chase and tried to
get within rifle-range. But the animals were shy and wary. The
hunters exhausted their supply of ammunition, but brought no game.
We lunched as usual in the scrappy shade of a mimosa bush, and
reached Shisana well shortly after four o’clock.
We had now left the “cotton soil” region, and entered an
undulating country, where our road lay over rocky or stony ground.
The character of the vegetation changed, and we began to pass
through glades of the great mimosa forest which extends from the
neighbourhood of Gedaref almost to Gallabat. Here the mimosas are
not bushes but trees, and it is from them that the gum-arabic is
collected which gives Gedaref its highly valuable trade and its
prosperity. Large quantities of the gum are exported by way of
Suakim, and there is a market for it at Cairo and other towns of
Lower Egypt. For instance, much crape is manufactured in Damietta,
where I have watched the process. Gum from Gedaref is used to
stiffen the texture, and serves the same purpose in the preparation
of various silken fabrics.
The industry might be largely developed. At present it is in the
hands of Greek traders. As the supply of coin in the Soudan is small,
the gum is used as a kind of currency by the natives, who barter it for
other goods. A small duty is levied by the Government on the
quantity exported, and no one seems appreciably the worse. I
present this detail of information to fiscal controversialists, and make
no demand upon their gratitude in doing so.
The gum-bearing mimosas are, on an average, I should say,
about twenty-five feet high. The boles are straight. Thorns grow
thickly on the branches. The white bark gives a characteristic and
almost haunting feature to the great forest. The gum exudes, chiefly,
at the junction of the branches with the trunk. Its appearance has
been excellently described by Sir Samuel Baker: “At this season the
gum was in perfection, and the finest quality was now before us in
beautiful amber-coloured masses upon the stems and branches,
varying from the size of a nutmeg to that of an orange. . . . This gum,
although as hard as ice on the exterior, was limpid in the centre,
resembling melted amber, and as clear as though refined by some
artificial process. . . . The beautiful balls of frosted yellow gum
recalled the idea of the precious jewels upon the trees in the garden
of the wonderful lamp of the ‘Arabian Nights.’ The gum was
exceedingly sweet and pleasant to the taste.”[17] The trees were in
flower when we saw them, and the blossoms scented the air sweetly.
The present method of collecting gum is primitive and
unsystematic. Natives go a two or three days’ journey from Gedaref
into the forest, when they are pressed by want of a commodity to sell
or exchange, and return with as much as they have gathered at
hazard.
GUM BEARING MIMOSA TREES.
See p. 30.
TRYING THE TEMPERATURE OF A PATIENT AT THE DOCTOR’S PARADE.
See p. 115.
Throughout the day’s march we had seen fires raging in the dried
grass, and we had frequently passed places where the charred
surface showed the effect of the flames. The custom of setting the
undergrowth alight would destroy the mimosa forest, but for the fact
that the fires burn low and travel quickly. The branches of the trees
do not spring from the lower expanse of the boles, and there is
consequently no combustion of the timber, except where a quantity
of old, sapless wood is ignited.
Trouble threatened us at Shisana well. Grain for the donkeys and
boys, that were to accompany us into Abyssinia, had been packed in
sacks at Gedaref. The friction caused by the camels’ movement had
frayed these open, and the grain was lying on the ground when we
arrived. At first we feared that we should be obliged to return to the
town and purchase new sacks; but luckily the camel-men were
bringing with them a stock of capacious and pliable baskets, made of
slit palm-leaves, which they had intended to sell at Gallabat. These
we commandeered, and so extricated ourselves from the difficulty.
Our journey next day was through entirely similar scenery, over
undulating, rocky ground. We saw some ariel, but again they were
too shy for us. Then we “declined upon” guinea-fowl, and bagged
two after a brisk, exciting run.
The heat was overpowering, and at lunch-time we had no rest.
Bees abound in this region, and get their honey from the flowers of
the mimosa trees. As the land is almost waterless in the dry season,
these insects suffer much from thirst. Even the moisture of
perspiration attracts them in their parched state, and, in addition,
there was the smell of water from our drinking-supply. The result was
that they swarmed upon us; in fact, they mobbed us. Every drinking
vessel was crowded with them. Our boys drank from calabashes;
when these were put upon the ground, bees clustered on the edges
and crawled towards the liquor. Impatient successors thronged upon
the first comers and pushed them into the water, so that in a few
minutes the surface was a mass of “struggle-for-lifers.” In spite of the
heat we had to keep moving; for when we settled, so did the bees—
all over us.
That night we pitched our camp in the mimosa forest, six miles
from the village and watering-place called Doka.
Next day—Christmas Eve—we started at seven, carrying our
guns, and had not walked a mile when we disturbed a flock of
guinea-fowl. Away they sped through the tangle of dry grass, and we
after them. We blazed away here and there, but the birds, hit or not,
were out of sight in an instant amidst that cover, and we missed in
this way many that we had not missed in the other. Our bag
consisted of four. When a bird dropped, the Soudanese “gillies,” who
were carrying our rifles in case big game should be seen, pounced
upon it and decapitated it. Otherwise it would not have been clean
meat for a Mohammedan. The land around Doka is hilly, and the
ground rises to a height of which Primrose Hill would be a good
example. We reached the village about nine o’clock.
Here we found, to our surprise, that the camel-men wanted to
water every beast in our convoy. We were but a few miles from
another watering-place, where the business could have been done in
the evening without wasting the hours of daylight in which we were
able to travel. We compromised by hurrying up the animals as soon
as we had filled our tanks, and when half a score had drunk, the well
ran dry.
We pushed on through the mimosa country. The temperature was
about 102°, and I found the heat extraordinarily oppressive. The
trees around us and overhead—they grow thickly in parts of the
forest—seemed to shut out every movement of air, such as had
always relieved us a little in the open tracts. Our extreme thirst
constantly tempted us. We had made it a rule not to draw upon our
ration of water till eleven in the morning, and abstinence till then was
Spartan discipline. If one began to drink, it was a sheer impossibility
to leave off, and the supply did not hold out. On calm reflection at a
distance, I doubt whether our normal breakfast of tinned sausages
and tea was wisely selected under the circumstances. But it could be
quickly prepared, and we seldom had time to be leisurely.
While we were traversing the forest, I neither saw nor heard any
bird except the guinea-fowl. The dried grass in which they wander
was the only undergrowth. Usually the place was as still as a tomb.
Of larger animals I saw none but antelopes, and not many of these.
We halted for lunch in a small ravine, and the bees did not find us
till we had nearly finished the meal. We “smoked” them with
cigarettes, cigars, and a bonfire, to no purpose. Then we shifted our
quarters, but they followed. All of us were stung, and we were not
quit of them till we mounted our camels and outdistanced the
swarms.
We camped for the night among the mimosas about seven miles
from the watering-place called Zeraf Zaid. I thought we had been
delivered from the plague of insects, but I deceived myself. Our
camp was stormed by hosts of small creatures—tiny beetles, flying
ants, and the like. They thronged and crawled on one’s candle, one’s
book, one’s face, and one’s hands, and I found it difficult to write my
diary. Some of them—I do not know whether they were prompted by
hunger or malignity—added insult to injury by biting us.
On the morning of Christmas Day we started with our guns in
advance of the convoy and bagged two brace of the usual poultry. I
had not hitherto found the country unhealthy, though the climate tries
one’s condition; but on this occasion I felt “out of sorts,” and was
glad—for a wonder—to mount my camel after the tramp in the
sunshine.
At 9.30 we reached the village of Zeraf Zaid. Here a clean hut
serves as a rest-house. We found the place pleasant and cool.
Within it were trestle-beds, of the kind commonly used in the Soudan
and called “angareebs.” Sir Samuel Baker has given a concise
description of them: “The angareebs, or native bedsteads, are simple
frameworks upon legs, covered with a network of raw hide worked in
a soft state, after which it hardens to the tightness of a drum when
thoroughly dry. No bed is more comfortable for a warm climate than
a native angareeb with a simple mat covering; it is beautifully elastic,
and is always cool, as free ventilation is permitted from below.”[18] I
concur in this favourable opinion of the native bed, and hope that its
value in cases of sickness or injury that are not serious may be
brought to the notice of the medical authorities of the army. It would
be easy to furnish tent-hospitals with this simple appliance in any
part of the Soudan.
We rested in contentment, and then lunched while the camels
were watered. Our convoy started at noon, and we two hours later.
We overtook the baggage at half-past three.
At Zeraf Zaid there is an outpost of “the Arab Battalion,” which
consists of Soudanese natives and Soudanese (i.e. naturalized)
Abyssinians,[19] Egyptian non-commissioned officers, and two
Englishmen, first and second in command, with the rank respectively
of colonel and major. The strength is about two hundred, and the
permanent head-quarters are at Kassala. The duty of the battalion is
to protect the frontier and suppress the slave raids which are
frequently attempted by Abyssinian subjects. I doubt whether the
latter part of the supervision duty is quite successfully performed
owing to the smallness of the corps, and it is well to bear in mind that
these raids may upon some occasion lead to serious political
complications affecting the attitude of the Anglo-Egyptian
Government towards the Negus Negesti.[20] He has but slight control
over his more powerful feudatories near the frontier; moreover, the
succession to the throne will assuredly be disputed upon the death
of the present ruler, and the whole country will then be plunged in
misrule and civil war. It is clear that a very serious state of affairs
may at any time be established in this region. Questions arising from
incursions made into territory where the British flag flies from districts
where no effective or responsible government exists may assume
the gravest importance.
The “Arab Battalion” is a sort of legacy to us from our
predecessors, and the men still wear the picturesque uniform chosen
for them in the days of the Italian occupation. It consists of a white
tunic extending to the knees, loose white trousers, sandals
surmounted by white gaiters, a broad green sash round the waist,
and a red tarboush with a green tassel. I cannot offer a valid opinion
upon the sufficiency of this body as a frontier guard in the event of
disturbances over a wide area, and I am not able to judge what
effect the racial sympathy of some members of it with Abyssinians
“over the border” would have in such a case.
Shortly after we had left Zeraf Zaid on the road to Gallabat we
saw a great bustard near at hand. One of my comrades tried to
shoot it for our Christmas dinner, but his luck failed him. However, I
had brought the materials of a plum pudding with me from Cairo, and
hoped that it would be a solace and a pleasant surprise for the other
two members of our mess. The cook obtained some eggs in the
village, and I gave him careful and emphatic directions and swore
him to secrecy. Ours is a phlegmatic race. The cook did his work
creditably, the pudding came to table, and was eaten without
comment. The poultry in these villages is of a stunted size, but the
flesh is tender and makes good eating. Pigeons are to be had in all
the hamlets.
Our camping-ground for the night was a pleasant spot, bare of
grass, and surrounded by high trees. In honour of the day, and in
expectation of entering Gallabat early on the following afternoon, I
discharged a professional man’s duty towards his toilet, and scraped
a week’s stubble from my face. In the wilderness even a doctor can
neglect appearances.
On Boxing Day we entered rising country with features different
from those seen in the mimosa forest.
The sides of the rocky hills have been seamed with ravines by the
rains. Nearly all the trees are still of the same order, but certain
species have broader leaves, and their appearance resembles that
of the timber found in the temperate zones. However, I saw no
specimen of the varieties common in England. I heard one songbird
in this district, the chaffinch. Water-wagtails abound.
As usual, we made an excursion ahead of the baggage with guns
and rifles. The game birds are sand-grouse and partridges, and we
shot a brace of the latter. Crawley brought down an ariel buck, which
was in good condition. This was our first venison. The shot caused
intense excitement in our convoy, and the guides and boys all made
a rush for the beast to cut its throat before it died of the bullet wound.
It had been hit in the neck.
We rested in a ravine called Otruk—a lovely wooded gorge in
which a small stream was flowing. A little further down the course the
water disappeared in the sand. Here, for the first time, I saw a troop
of baboons. No doubt they inhabit caves and clefts in the
surrounding rocks. Some were fully of human stature. Partridges and
guinea-fowl were numerous here, and beyond question the rivulet in
the khor attracts animals of every kind existing in the district. It was
the first running water we had seen since we left the Blue Nile. We
rested until two o’clock, and then rode on towards Gallabat.
When we were half an hour’s journey distant from the town, we
were met by Mr. Saville, the Inspector, who accompanied us to our
quarters.
CHAPTER IV
On the morning of December 31, the donkeys were laden and our
journey was begun by a quarter to eight. We were again hindered on
the march by the shifting of the donkeys’ loads.
Our track now lay among craggy mountains, in the rain-scoured
district, where there is no single human habitation. I saw neither wild
beast nor bird, and the country gave a strange impression of stillness
and lifelessness. The flora is quite distinct from that of the Soudan.
The trees are tall and spreading and of many different species. I
recognized the “Matabele apple,” and saw the hard, uneatable fruit
on the branches. The ground in many places was covered with
“bamboo grass,” too high for a mounted man to look over, and the
thick, overtopping growth seemed to shut out the air. As we
advanced during the afternoon we discovered that the grass had
been fired at several spots along our route—I do not know by whom,
or whether it was kindled accidentally or by design. The flames drove
out some partridges, and Dupuis and I thought that we saw a tasty
breakfast for the next morning. But when we moved forward with our
guns the birds, to our amazement, ran back into the burning cover.
The fire died out in the evening, and all was quiet at night.
There is much stony land in this district. The soil of the fertile
tracts is not of the friable kind which we had so often seen in the
Soudan: but there are many fissures in it, due, no doubt, to alternate
drenching and drying in the rainy season. Our road often lay along
steep and wide gorges, through which an enormous volume of water
descends to the Atbara at the time of the floods. My mule was very
steady on his legs and the motion was easy when he trotted on open
ground. He only showed the waywardness of his kind when I led
him. It was pleasant to think that some sort of understanding existed
between the rider and his mount after one had been accustomed for
weeks to the impassive eye of the camel.
On January 1, a couple of shabby fellows visited our camp in the
morning. We questioned them and found, from the answers which
Johannes translated, that they were the escort sent to accompany
Gwynn and were on the way to join him at Gallabat. He might
consider their company a sign that he was honoured, but scarcely a
sound protection against robbery. We struck our camp after this and
commenced the day’s journey, following the bed of a river. As usual,
there were dry tracts and well filled pools in its course. Later, we
climbed the bank and struck into the country beyond, continually
riding up hill and down dale. Again we saw an abundance of tall
grass and fine timber. The former was dry at this season, and had
been burned in many places. The country here abounds in big game,
but the height and thickness of the grass make it very difficult to sight
animals. We saw a koodoo, three gazelles, traces of elephants, and
spoor of other beasts, but none came within range.
We had covered fourteen miles by half-past eleven, and then
halted, considering that the donkeys had journeyed far enough. Our
progress depended on them, and we were careful not to overwork
them. Three were suffering from girth sores. We pitched our camp in
a ravine about a quarter of a mile distant from the bed of the Gundar
Wahar—which is the river Atbara with an Abyssinian name.
One of our escort was reported ill with fever, and I found that his
temperature was 104 degrees. But quinine had brought about a
decisive improvement by nightfall. I had another patient. My friend
Crawley had chafed his instep, and there was a bad sore on it. I had
recourse to a little doctor’s diplomacy to keep him still, and put on
such a large fomentation that he could not walk. Then Dupuis and I
took our guns and rifles and tramped in the jungle—for the mass of
thick, lofty grass deserved the name. My companion shot a brace of
partridges, and we saw some guinea-fowl, and much spoor of big
game. But nothing more got into our bag, and the excursion was
wearisome and disappointing.
On January 2 our road again lay through hilly, verdurous country.
While the donkeys climbed or descended the steep inclines their
loads slipped as before, and kept all hands busy. The boys were
continually shouting for help, and the burdens were replaced amid
yelling and cursing. These natives never worked without talking,
singing, or swearing, and they were specially fond of hearing their
own oaths. But, I think, very little ill-will went with the words, and in
spite of the endless imprecations uttered over the donkeys, they
treated the animals well.
During the morning I took my rifle, filled my pockets with ball
cartridges, and rode ahead of our party in the hope of trying a shot at
big game. But I found small parties of Habashes[30] at intervals along
the track throughout a distance of two miles in front of our convoy.
Clearly it would be useless to search for any large wild beast in the
proximity of these groups. I recognized the men as folk who had
attached themselves to our train. They made a practice of camping
where we pitched our tents, and had hitherto forestalled us in the
choice of ground, and settled under the most suitable trees. They
sought protection from the robbers who infest the district—the most
notorious at the time was a Soudanese Arab called Hakos. I was
glad that these wayfarers should enjoy a sense of security, but
resented having sport spoiled. So I addressed a remonstrance to
Johannes, who promised that all camp followers should keep in the
rear in future, and he was as good as his word.
That afternoon we pitched our tents on the banks of the Gundar
Wahar, which was here a stream trickling from pool to pool. We had
travelled about fourteen miles. My friend Dupuis fitted out his angling
tackle, and tried his fortune in some of the pools, using an ordinary
spoon-bait. He caught three fair-sized fish, belonging to the perch
family. I saw him land the biggest, which weighed six pounds, and
showed fight. It had to be played into the shallows, and was brought
ashore in smart style. Crawley, who was lame, limped to the edge of
the river and cast a line with dough on the hook. He fished patiently,
and his perseverance was rewarded with two little creatures of the
size of sticklebacks.
All the camping-grounds by the waterside in this district are called
warshas, and as there are few distinctive names for places in the
uninhabited tract, we called the spots where we halted warsha
number one, warsha number two, and so on.