We were told that some twelve years ago an army of Toucouleurs had tried to descend the Niger in canoes. They were, however, completely annihilated at Tosaye, crushed beneath masses of rocks which the natives rolled down on them from the top of the cliffs. Of course I knew that allowance must be made for exaggeration, but for all that I feared that we should be at very great disadvantage in the narrow pass if we did have a conflict with the natives. We must therefore put out all our diplomacy to avoid a struggle. Without seeming to give any credence to the alarmist reports of Sidi Hamet, or to be in the least disconcerted by them, I entered into conversation with Sala’s brother, and very soon managed to introduce the subject of Abdul Kerim. I revealed my relationship to him, and as usual it produced the anticipated effect. Sala was not aware that I was the nephew of Barth; he must at once be told. As a mark of gratitude and a token that I really was speaking the truth, I gave him the name of the cook of his former leader, El Beckay. Her name was Diko. No doubt when Barth, with his usual German precision, registered the name of that humble but useful personage, the information did not seem likely to be of very great importance to future generations. He little knew the service he would render nearly half-a-century afterwards to his pretended nephew. With such a proof as this who could fail to believe that I really was the nephew of my “uncle,” especially as Diko was not yet dead, but was living at a camp in the interior? The result of my news was that Sala had not, after all, gone on a journey, and would perhaps visit us. His brother at once hastened to land to take the tidings to him, his whole manner and expression completely transformed. He soon came back to report that Sala was not gone, but still in the village, and when his brother had told him who I was he had wept, for he saw in my arrival the fulfilment of a prophecy made by his leader. The fact was, that when Barth, accompanied by El Beckay, arrived at Tosaye, the German explorer had no doubt been in more danger than at any other time during his adventurous expedition. The Tademeket Kel Burrum had resolved on his death, and all the eloquence, all the religious influence of his protector could not soften their feelings of animosity towards him. At this crisis, and seeing that a terrible outbreak of hatred and fanaticism was imminent, El Beckay, in the interests of his friend, came to a weighty resolution. He told the Tuaregs that neither they nor he were powerful enough to decide a matter so important as the fate of Barth, and that El Khotab, head of the great confederation of the Awellimiden, alone had the right to final judgment. Leaving the banks of the river, El Beckay then went alone to El Khotab, and persuaded him to give a safe-conduct to Barth, whom he looked upon as his own _protégé_.