Ngahma was Aboo Sammat’s most important settlement amongst the Mittoo. It lies in a S.S.E. direction from Dokkuttoo and derives its name from the elder of the people, who, with his twenty wives, resides at no great distance; by the natives it is called Mittoo-mor. From Ngahma I turned north-east towards Dimindoh, a small settlement of elephant-hunters belonging to Ghattas’s “Gebel company,” as the people style his establishments on the Bahr-el-Gebel. The district was the highest elevation between the Roah and the Rohl, the country being more diversified by defiles, clefts, and periodic streams than that which I had previously traversed. Dimindoh lay on the further bank of a little river called the Wohko, which, during our march, we had repeatedly to cross. The stream flows over a course of some seventy miles without any perceptible increase in its dimensions, a peculiarity that I have again and again observed in many other small rivers, which seem to flow across wide tracts of country unchanged in their condition by the affluence of any spring or running brook. An excellent reception awaited me in Dimindoh. The hunting-village had been lately built of straw and bamboo at a large outlay, and there were regular straw palaces, of which the new domes and roofs gleamed with all the golden glory of Ceres. To say the very least, our rest was quite undisturbed by rats, and the idyllic abodes still retained the pleasant aroma of the meadows. I had no cause to complain of the entertainment in any of the smaller Seribas. I was always supplied with milk and with all kinds of meal. The traditional spirit-distillery of Ghattas’s people was here also in full swing, and they brought to me, in gourd-shells, a concoction which was not so utterly bad as that at Gurfala. [Sidenote: TREATMENT OF WOUNDS.] I was, however, much bewildered by the constant solicitations for my medical advice. Amongst other cases they brought me a Nubian, who, on his excursions, had received such cuts from the grass that his feet had completely rotted away, leaving the tendons still hanging. These people have no rational way of treating their wounds, but when there is any inflammation they endeavour to allay it by corn-poultices and hot water, a proceeding which always aggravates the evil. I saw some who had lost several toes, and others who had the most revolting sores on the shins and insteps, and in nearly every case these had arisen from insignificant cuts which, simply from mismanagement, had terminated in disease. “It is a strange thing,” I said to them, “that the grass is only bad _here_; it must be something more than that; it is a punishment from God.” “But God,” they answered, “does not give us such grass in Dongola; this is a bad country.” “Do you mean to say then,” I replied, “that God is kind in Dongola, and unkind here? No; I tell you, God is Himself punishing you for all your thievery, because there is here no other ruler to look after your misdeeds.”