Somangoro is supposed, or rather was supposed, not to tolerate neighbours, so that when in 1885 a post-office was for the first time set up on the plateau of the hill, the chief of the village thought it his duty to warn the officer in charge that it would certainly fall down. And so it did, for it had been put up too hurriedly, and collapsed in a violent storm. In 1889 I, in my turn, tried to build nine earthen huts on the same spot to accommodate the staff of the Niger flotilla. Pressed for time, I began by putting up a wooden framework, and the roof was being put on simultaneously with the adding of the earthen walls. Of course I had supported the corners of my framework by pieces of wood, but my mason, finding himself in want of them, did not hesitate to remove them, and therefore, just what might have been expected happened—my house went down like a castle of cards, dragging the roof and the men at work on it with it. Fortunately no one was hurt. Naturally the influence of Somangoro was supposed to have been at the bottom of the catastrophe, and I could not get any natives from the village to work for me on that spot again. I was very much vexed, but fortunately I suddenly remembered how a certain General of the first Republic managed to get the blood of Saint Januarius to liquefy when it rebelled against performing the miracle expected of it. I presented Somangoro with a white sheep, and at the same time told the sorcerer who superintends the rites of the hero’s worship that he had a choice of a good present or a flogging, according to the answer his master should make to them through him. Under the circumstances, I added, Somangoro would surely do the best he could for the welfare of his faithful servant. The event was as I foresaw. The oracle, when consulted, declared that full permission was granted me to reside where I liked. Since then I have been supposed throughout Bambara to be on excellent terms with Somangoro. Mount Kolikoro is a harbour of refuge for escaped slaves who have fled from the injustice and brutality of their masters, and declare themselves to be the captives of Somangoro. No one dares to touch them as long as they keep close to the rock, so they have built huts there and till the ground for food. Another noteworthy fact with regard to this mountain is, that an oath taken by it whilst eating _degué_ is inviolable. He who should perjure himself by a lie after that would be sure to lose his life. When I was in command there I often turned this belief to account, and got at the truth in matters far too complicated to be solved by the ordinary light of human reason.