a shayba to a black one." This shayba is the forked limb of a tree; the fork is placed on the neck pressing against the larynx, the stem projecting before the wearer; the right wrist is then tightly bound to the stem with thongs of fresh hide, which soon dry and "bite" the flesh, and the ends of the fork drawn as closely together as possible, and fastened with a crosspiece. It is a cruel instrument of torture, for the arm must be kept extended to its utmost; to attempt to relieve the tension means pressure on the larynx; but when yoked to another man he throws pressure on you, and you on him. A prod in the ribs under the arm of either victim, with sword or rifle, affords endless amusement to their tormentors in the victims' gapes and grimaces as they gasp for breath; but the captor's cup of happiness is filled when an extra hard prod knocks one man off his feet, and the poor wretches are only helped up again when they are almost choking.
Irritated beyond endurance by the youth's jibes and jests, and hoping to put an end to everything at once, I threw my weight and strength into one blow — and I was a powerful man then — and felled him senseless. Taking his rifle, I strode back to the tent, almost foaming with rage, and entered; my eyes must have been blazing; I glared from one to the other, wondering whether to fire the one shot and then start "clubbing" until I was cut down. Hamza was the first to speak, and jumping up, held up his hand, saying, "Istanna" (wait). I hurriedly related what had occurred, and said what I intended to do. Hamza
