Three Gallas were killed by spears, the others had been stabbed in the throat and chest, and probably died fighting fairly enough. Carmel Ibrahim was one happy man-slayer, and also the brother of Moosa, and they kept up their song of triumph all the time we stayed here, except when they took me to see the bodies of those they had killed. I observed that the Dankalli do not practise the brutal custom of disfiguring the slain, so common among the Amhara at the present time, and which was also a characteristic of Jewish warfare. The arms and shields, not only of the Gallas who had been killed, but also numerous others that the fugitives had thrown away, fell to the lot of those who picked them up in the latter case, and to the victors in the former. Two of the other successful Hy Soumaulee were so busy fixing in their own belts the newly-obtained knives, which were much better than their own, that they did not attempt to raise the song, like Carmel and his friend, who, perhaps, only did it to attract my attention. Ohmed Medina informed me that I must give them a present, and upon my asking why, he said it was the custom for masters so to reward brave servants. He assured me that the chief of the town of Dophan had already given them a goat, and that the Wallasmah would also do the same. Seeing that it was the general custom, and as they had only been doing their duty, not as aggressors, but as men defending their wives and property, I promised them a bullock. On my doing this they would insist upon decorating my head with a symbil, or wreath of twisted goatskin, like themselves, but I managed to induce them at last to place it on my hat instead. Before we left the ground, I asked Ohmed Medina, if the dead Gallas would be buried. He looked at me, rather astonished at the question, but thinking, I suppose, that I knew no better, he said, very shortly, “Koran yahklur” (the ravens will eat them). Our curiosity being satisfied, we now followed the camels, already some distance on their way to Dinnomalee, conversing as we rode along upon the events of the morning. The Hy Soumaulee men were too excited to think of the captive girls taken from amongst them never to return, but several of the women of the Kafilah I noticed with tear-shot eye mourning the loss of some friend or relation. No usual occupation, such as plaiting the palm leaf into a broad ribbon, to be sewed afterwards into mats, filled their hands, no familiar salutations as I passed by enlivened the way with smiles, but each with a long rope fastened around the under jaw of a camel led strings of five or six of these animals, that followed in their peculiarly quiet manner, the path their sorrowing conductress pursued.