I was afraid that this would lead to some
complication, and I was much annoyed; I had never used these
pistols, but I had considered that they were first rate; thus I
had given them to Mek Nimmur as a valuable present, and they had
proved their utter worthlessness. I immediately mounted my horse,
and with my revolver in my belt, and my beautiful single Beattie
rifle in my hand, I galloped off to Mek Nimmur; he was seated in
the same spot, watching the harvest of dhurra, enormous piles of
which were being thrashed by a number of Abyssinians. The instant
that I arrived, I went straight to him, and explained my regret
and disappointment at the failure of the pistols, and I begged
him to take his choice between my rifle and revolver. He behaved
remarkably well; he had begged my messenger to leave the broken
pistols with him, and not to mention the circumstance to me, as
he felt sure that I should feel even more annoyed than himself;
he now declined my offer, as he said I should require the weapons
during my proposed journey up the White Nile, and he could not
deprive me of their use. He was afraid of the revolver, as it was
too complicated, but I tore from my note-book a small piece of
paper, which I requested one of his people to stick upon a rock
about ninety yards distant.
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