That smoke
was kindled by the terrible Theodore. He was, it is true, still far
away; but who could say? His father-in-law, Menilek knew well, was
a man of long marches and sudden attacks. How his large army would
be scattered like chaff before the wind at the cry, "Theodore is
coming," he was well aware, and he came to the conclusion that the
sooner he was off the better.
Our disappointment was something beyond description. Our rage, our
indignation and scorn for such cowardice, I cannot express. The
"fat boy," as we also now called him, we hated and despised. Had
we been imprudent enough openly to take his part, what would have
become of us? Menilek, doubtless, meant well, and probably would
have succeeded had the Bishop lived a few weeks longer. As it is,
he did us a great deal of harm. Had he and Workite never left Shoa,
Mastiate would have laid siege to the mountain. Sooner or later it
must have surrendered, and neither Theodore nor his messengers would
ever have ventured south of the Bechelo if Mastiate had been there
with her 20,000 horsemen.
With Menilek's departure, I, for one, made up my mind never again
to credit any of the promises of the native chiefs, which always
ended in mere moon-shine. Since then, I heard with the utmost
indifference that so-and-so was marching in such a direction, that
he or she would attack Theodore, or invest the Amba and stop all
communication between the rascals on the top and "our friend"
Theodore.
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