is a word which means “give a little present so as to get a very big one.” I am not sure whether there is any word corresponding to this in Songhay, but there is not the slightest doubt that the Koyraberos know how to practise the manœuvre suggested by the word, and Mamadu was an adept at it. On one occasion, however, his hopes of a present were disappointed, and he was guilty of a very great mistake. We simply had to turn him out of the camp, and from that moment he became all submission to us. Our coolies in their free-spoken way nicknamed him the blackguard Mamadu, and no doubt he had well merited the epithet by some dastardly deed they knew of. [Illustration: A TYPICAL KOURTEYE.] Amongst our constant visitors was one quite small boy, the son of the famous Abd el Kader of Timbuktu, who had been the guest of the French Geographical Society there, a corresponding member of that of Paris, the great diplomatist who had been made a plenipotentiary in spite of himself, and who had acted as guide to my friend Caron in his grand journey. Abd el Kader, when driven from Timbuktu, wandered about in the districts near the bend of the river. No doubt under pretence of making a pilgrimage to Mecca, he lived like a true marabout at the expense of the natives, seducing many women, and leaving many children behind him whose mothers he had deserted. It is said that he is now with Samory. [Illustration: THE ARABU.] His little son to whom I referred above was called “the Arabu.” He was very proud of his parentage, and looked upon his father as a saint. Though small for his age, he had a big head of the shape known as hydrocephalic, and was a very sensible, intelligent little fellow, with quite refined instincts. From our first arrival at Say he had bravely come to see us on our barges, and though he was trembling in all his limbs as he spoke, he explained his position clearly to us. We made a great fuss over him, giving him sugar to eat. The gamins of Say looked upon him as partly a white, and partly what they call a _tubabu_. Strange to say, when there was any difficulty with the market-women, who sometimes made a great noise, singing seditious songs and dancing to their accompaniment, shouting out praises of Aliburi or Amadu, it was always the little Arabu who was deputed to go and pacify them. As he expressed it, “the son of an ambassador, I too am an ambassador!” This child grew quite fond of us. Being on his father’s side of more or less Twat origin, he considered himself a white man like ourselves, and of all our guests he was perhaps the only disinterested one, if we say nothing about the sugar.