I soon perceived that my hope of a better mount was vain. My new camel was a failure from the start. His paces were indescribable, and when he trotted I felt like a bad sailor in a small boat on a lively sea. In an hour’s time I had lost my temper and got rid of the camel. As the result, I was better served, and a beast was brought for me which shambled evenly, and allowed me to keep up with my companions. We halted for lunch at a village called Hadeiba, where two sheikhs came out to receive us. They were very polite, but would neither eat nor smoke, as we were in the month of Ramadan. By-and-by they remembered that they ought to give us a present, and left us, saying that they would bring two sheep, according to the custom of the Soudan. Half an hour later we quitted the spot. That night we camped at a place named Khor Abou Segeira, close to the Rahad. Near at hand was a muddy pool in the course of the river, and we had to draw our supply of liquor from it. As usual, we set our Berkfeld filters to work. A candle is a part of the apparatus through which the water filters, and we found that this incessantly became foul and required to be cleaned every three minutes. However, we replenished our stock of clear water sufficiently, and then went to bed by moonlight in the open. We started at a quarter-past seven on the morning of the 14th. No tents had been pitched the night before, so none had to be struck, and our departure was earlier on this account. My companions and I took our guns into the bushy ground beside the river while the camels followed the track towards Gedaref. We were in search of guinea-fowl, which are found in great abundance on the banks of the Rahad. These birds run in flocks, and rise at about forty yards’ distance when one tries to approach them. I lost sight of my companions in the thick, tangled vegetation, and after waiting where I was for a while in case they should chance to rejoin me, roamed on. I found no guinea-fowl, but pigeons and ringdoves were in great abundance, and there were hoopoes, hornbills, kingfishers, and numbers of other birds. A little later I came to the banks of the river. Here I saw a company of grivet monkeys. These, according to Mansfield Parkyns, are called “tota” or “waag” in Abyssinia. He described the species as “a beautiful little greenish-grey monkey, with black face and white whiskers.”[10] The natty little fellows whom I met by the Rahad just answered the description. They were clean and sleek, and looked as “spry” as cleverness could make them.