According to my usual custom I went to see the chief unarmed, accompanied only by Suleyman and Tierno Abdulaye. First we had to wait in the ante-chamber—I mean the mud hut referred to above—the walls of which were pierced with niches making it look like a pigeon-cote. At last his majesty condescended to admit us to his presence. The king of Say could not be called handsome, sympathetic, or clean. He was a big, blear-eyed man, with a furtive expression, a regular typical fat negro. He was crouching rather than sitting on a bed of palm-leaves, wearing a native costume, the original colour of which it was impossible to tell, so coated was it with filth. He was surrounded by some thirty armed men. On his left stood the chief of the captives, Abdu, with an old dried-up looking man, who I was told was the cadi of the village, and, to my great and disagreeable surprise, quite a large number of Toucouleurs. Suleyman and Abdulaye, who recognized what this meant, exchanged anxious glances with me. I now realized that my apprehensions had been well founded. Still I took my seat quietly, without betraying any emotion, on a wooden mortar, and begun my speech. [Illustration: VIEW OF SAY.] “The Sultan of the French greets you, the chief of the Sudan greets you, etc. We come from Timbuktu. We passed peacefully everywhere. We are now tired, the river is low, and in conformity with the conventions you have made with the French we have come to demand your hospitality that we may rest and repair the damage done to our boats by the rocks. We also want a courier to go and tell our relations at Bandiagara that we have arrived here safely. All we need to support us during our stay will be paid for at prices agreed on beforehand between us. Lastly, I wish to go and see Ibrahim Galadjo, your friend and ours.” “Impossible,” replied Modibo. “Galadjo is not now at his capital, he is collecting a column; besides, you will not have time for the journey to him.” “Why not, pray?” “Because you, like those who have preceded you, must not stop here more than four or five days longer. That is the custom of the country.” If I still cherished any illusions this speech finally dispersed them. The groups about the chief moreover left me in no doubt as to his sentiments, or as to whom we had to thank for those sentiments. The Toucouleurs grinned, and waved their muskets above their heads in a hostile manner. Abdu alone tried to speak on our behalf, but Modibo ordered him to be silent, and the cadi joined in the chorus against us. A griot then began a song, the few words of which I caught were certainly not in our praise. Everything seemed to be going wrong.