An occasion arose for him to speak to me a second time. Mahomed was trying a case in his official capacity as interpreter, I was assisting in mine of magistrate. An old Arab had died, leaving some property to be divided amongst several sons; as yet this had not been done; the property was in charge of the deceased's brother and stored in his house. One of the heirs was in a hurry to pouch his share, and removed a hubble-bubble without mentioning the matter to the others. He was ordered to return it, and to wait until a proper distribution of the property could be made. But the fellow was a bad lot; he broke into his uncle's house and stole a beautifully carved old bed, and some mats. I was examining a witness, concerning this theft, who had apparently contradicted herself. It was all about the bed--these people know everything concerning one another's beds, which are heirlooms. The woman giving evidence stated, in the first instance, that the bed produced in court had been given to the accused's aunt by her father-in-law as a wedding present. The father-in-law was the accused's grandfather. Further on in her statement the witness said it had been given to the accused's aunt by a woman. I asked her, through Mahomed, to explain the discrepancy. Mahomed refused to put the question. It was quite unnecessary, he said. He knew the woman referred to was the accused's grandmother, and the bed was a joint present from her and her husband--quite simple. "But," I said quietly, "I should like the witness, who is on oath, to tell me that, not you. Please put my question!" "But I have already explained to you, it is quite unnecessary to ask the woman!" I insisted. Mahomed turned to the inspector of police and said in aggrieved tones, "The Sahib doubts my word. It is useless my interpreting in this court." I felt that on this occasion I must apologise. I cleared the court and asked Mahomed to stand in the prisoner's cage so that he could hear every word I said. I told him how sorry I was--for him. He accepted my apology. He begged that I would not give the matter another thought, that I would forget all about it. He realised that his reputation would suffer if people knew how badly I had been trained at his hands. To save his reputation I agreed to push my apology no further. But I know Mahomed will not trouble to teach me any more. I am hopeless. Mahomed has written a book. He told me so himself. Later on in the conversation he said that he had written it in collaboration with a European Sahib. He told the Sahib the names of all the insects and animals in Somaliland, the Sahib wrote them down, and they are in the book.