On their return El Hakim decided that it was absolutely necessary that the matter should be stringently dealt with, and to that end issued orders that on the following morning a party of our men were to hold themselves in readiness to accompany us to the village for the purpose of demanding a “shaurie.” These preparations, however, proved superfluous, as at sunrise we were waited upon by a deputation of elders from the village in question, who had come to try to square matters. As a sign of our displeasure, we kept them waiting for some time, and after the suspense had reduced them to a sufficiently humble frame of mind, we condescended to appear and listen to their explanation. They prefaced their apology by a long rambling statement to the effect that “the Burkeneji were the friends of the white man.” “It was _good_ to be friends,” said they, “and _very bad_ not to be friends,” and so on. After they had quite exhausted their limited powers of rhetoric, we put in a few pointed questions. “Do friends throw spears?” we asked. “Oh, _that_!” said they, in tones of surprise that we should have noticed such a trivial occurrence, and they forthwith plunged into a maze of apologies and explanations to the effect that young men _would_ be young men. It was, of course, extremely regrettable that such an unpleasant incident should have occurred to mar our friendly relations, but they trusted we would take a lenient view of the conduct of the foolish young man, the more so as he had already been driven away from the village as a punishment for his offence. “And,” they added, with a charming naïveté, “would we give them a present and say no more about it?” El Hakim declined to take such a lenient view of the case. To have done so would have been construed into a confession of weakness, and probably have led to more serious complications. He therefore demanded that the young man should be delivered up to him for punishment, or, failing that, a fine of ten sheep should be paid by his father. They answered solemnly that the white men had very hard hearts; furthermore, the young man, having already been driven out of the village, could not now be found, and they were in consequence quite unable to give him up. “Then,” said El Hakim, “his papa must pay the fine.” They protested that the wicked young man had no papa, or, indeed, any relatives whatsoever; in fact, that he was an outcast whom, from charitable motives, they had allowed to stop in their village. We declined to believe such a preposterous story, and remained firm on the subject of the fine. After a time, finding remonstrance useless, the elderly deputation sorrowfully withdrew, after promising that the fine should be paid.