He was black, he was filthy, he was savage, ignorant and ugly--but he had his Pride, both personal and racial, for he was a Somali. A Somali, mark you, not a mere _Hubshi_ or Woolly One, not a common Nigger, not a low and despicable person--worshipping idols, eating human flesh, grubs, roots and bark--the "black ivory" of Arabs. If you called Moussa Isa a Hubshi, he either killed you or marked you down for death, according to circumstances. Had Moussa Isa lived a few centuries earlier, been of another colour, and swanked around in painful iron garments and assorted cutlery, he would have been highly praised for his fine and proper spirit. Poet, bard, and troubadour would have noted and published his quickness on the point of honour. Moussa would have been set to music and have become a source of income to the gifted. He would have become a Pillar of the Order of Knighthood and an Ornament of the Age of Chivalry. A wreath of laurels would have encircled his brow--instead of a rope of hemp encircling his neck. For such fine, quick, self-respecting Pride, such resentment of insult, men have become Splendid Figures of the Glorious Past. _Autres jours autres moeurs_. How many people called him _Hubshi_, we know not; but we know, from his own lips, of the killing of some few. Of the killing of others he had forgotten, for his memory was poor, save for insult and kindness. And, having caught and convicted him in one or two cases the appointed servants of the British Empire first "reformed" and then slew him in their turn--thus descending to his level without his excuse of private personal insult and injury....