We thought we really had better try a little intimidation, for since the morning they had kept telling us that our guns and cannon would not go off, for Allah had forbidden them to. To show them therefore what our weapons were really capable of, I decided to send a shell over their heads at random, and we heard it burst far away in the distance. The band at once dispersed like a flight of sparrows, but their first terror over, they formed up again, and advanced with a courage which I could not but admire. There was nothing left to do, if we wished to avoid a real conflict, but to set sail, so we went and cast anchor a couple of miles further on, opposite Mount Tondibi, or the Black Mountain, as it is called in Songhay, though why I cannot say, as it really is of a beautiful orange-red. The next day was a repetition of what this had been. The Tenger Eguedeche followed us, howling. We anchored for breakfast off the right bank, and they withdrew to a short distance, but continued to spy upon us, and yelled at us when we left. At about two o’clock we suddenly saw coming along the bank from the opposite direction, a fine-looking, handsome Tuareg, riding a splendid black horse. His clean clothes and well-kept person showed that he was a chief. He advanced towards the crowd, who had halted when they caught sight of him, and said a few words, at which they all stopped shouting and squatted down. He then came towards us, made us what seemed a friendly sign with one hand, and leaning on his iron spear, the copper ornaments on which gleamed in the sunshine, he watched us pass by. After this, not a word, not a cry was heard, and the right bank appeared perfectly deserted; only here and there behind some bush, the glitter of weapons revealed the presence of a concealed Tuareg sentinel watching our movements. I learnt afterwards that the Tuareg on the fine horse was an envoy from Madidu, sent to the Tenger Eguedeche, to order them to cease from their hostile demonstrations. The Amenokal sent them word that he considered he was the only person who had a right to decide how strangers should be treated; and therefore, until he had made up his mind, no one was to show us either friendship or hatred.