morning at four o'clock, regardless of the weather, he would crawl
out of his tent, drape himself in a white sheet, and cry out his prayers
to Mecca. It was his voice that woke the camp, and the immediate answer
to his prayers was sometimes quite irreverent, especially from the
Wakamba porters, who were accustomed to sit up nearly all night
gambling.

Hassan was a Somali, strictly honest and faithful. He had the Somali's
love of a rupee, and there was no danger or hardship that he would not
undergo in the hope of backsheesh. It is the African custom to
backsheesh everybody when a lion is killed, so consequently the Somalis
were always looking for lions. Perhaps he also prayed for them each
morning.

When we started we had four Somali gunbearers, each of whom rose at dawn
to pray. As we got up in the high altitudes, where the mornings were
bitter cold, the number of suppliants dwindled down to one, and Hassan
was the sole survivor. No cold or rain or early rising could cool the
fierce religious ardor that burned within him.

Long before daybreak we would hear his voice raised in a singsong prayer
full of strange runs and weird minors. The lions that roared and grunted
near the camp would pause in wonder and then steal away as the sound of
Hassan's devotions rang out through the chilly, dew-laden dawn. And as
if fifteen minutes of morning prayer was not enough to keep him even
with his religious obligations, he went through two more long recitals
in the afternoon and at night.

I sometimes thought that behind his fervent ardor there was a
considerable pride in his voice, for he introduced many interesting
by-products of harmony that sounded more or less extraneous to both
music and prayer. Nevertheless, Hassan was consistent. He never lied, he
never stole, and it was part of his personal creed of honor to stand by
his master in case of danger. Somali gunbearers are a good deal of a
nuisance about a camp, partly because they are the aristocrats of Africa
and demand large salaries, but chiefly because they require certain
kinds of food that their religion requires them to eat. This is often
difficult to secure when far from sources of supplies, and in
consequence the equilibrium of camp harmony is sorely disturbed.

They are avaricious and money loving to a deplorable degree, but there
is one thing that can be said for the Somali. He will never desert in
time of danger and will cheerfully sacrifice himself for his mast