This happened every hour of every day during the whole period of our sojourn among them; it almost drove us frantic on occasions. To do them justice, the cry was sometimes varied; sometimes it was “Mate serutia?” and other times “Mate tumbao?” (tobacco), of which they are inordinately fond, probably because they can obtain it only on the rare occasions when they come in contact with the Wa’embe, and the Reshiat at the north end of the “Basso Norok” (Lake Rudolph). Lubo himself often sat for hours in front of the temporary hut of palm leaves we had erected as a council house, begging for a few beads or a small piece of brass wire. We ridiculed him once, saying that we were surprised that he, who was such a wealthy man, should beg for a few beads. He was amazed! “Is it not good to give?” he said. “Well, then, why do you not give us something?” we inquired. “You have never asked me!” he answered simply. If we had been a wealthy exploring caravan, rich enough to have bestowed munificent gifts on the Rendili on our arrival, doubtless their value, or near it, would have been returned to us in kind, but we could not then have been certain of getting what we needed, as the return gift might have consisted of camels or some other commodity which we did not require, and which we would be unable, from the nature of the case, to refuse. We preferred, therefore, the slower and more sordid process of bartering for what we wanted. We had, of course, bestowed presents on arrival, but nothing large enough to warrant the gift of perhaps half a dozen camels in return. Their begging was at times particularly aggravating; for instance, after a hot and weary morning passed in trade “shauries” and discussions with the various elders respecting presents to be given and received. Having lunched on a quart of milk or so, we would retire for a smoke and a siesta. Just as we were dropping off into a delicious doze, a dusky countenance would be thrust into the hut, and a gentle voice would softly utter, “Mate serutia?” accompanied by a touching smile and insinuatingly outstretched paw. At such times language failed us, and we could only glare. But glaring did not seem to have any effect; the intruder did not mind it in the least, so the services of Ramathani had to be requisitioned, and as he led the culprit gently away, we would compose ourselves once more to sleep to the accompaniment of the plaintive murmur of “Mate serutia” sandwiched between the voluble remonstrances of our faithful henchman. But five minutes later, the whole performance would be repeated!