I proposed, that if they could convey such an enormous quantity so great a distance from Lokko to Gondokoro, they should first prove their fidelity by transporting the few hundred urdeps from our Belinian camp to head-quarters. If they would assist us in this manner, they should be paid for their trouble, and I should then believe in their sincerity. On the other hand, if they refused, I should be perfectly certain that they would also decline to transport the corn from Lokko, and that every individual would merely scramble for spoil, and return to Belinian with a load of plunder for his own use. We should then be left at Lokko in a foolish position. After much discussion, they promised to carry the corn to Gondokoro before commencing operations against Lokko; but I at once perceived by their manner, that they had not the slightest intention of performing any such contract. They felt that their scheme had been found out. Although Africans are notoriously cunning and treacherous, they have not sufficient patience or self-sacrifice to enable them to carry out a perfect scheme. If the Belinians had wished to succeed in their plan, they should have willingly carried the corn to Gondokoro, and thus have established confidence. In all my experience with African tribes, I have observed this want of organization in their plans. Like ignorant chess-players, they only think of the first few moves, and thus are at a loss when suddenly checked. Of course I had no intention of attacking Lokko, as I had no complaint against him; and although a Bari, he was a chief who had always behaved well to the Austrian missionaries. This portion of the Bari tribe, instead of being sixteen miles, was at least thirty from the north of Belinian, and was situated on the White Nile, where the sheik, Lokko, was known to the traders as "Oom Nickla." The following extracts from my journal will at once explain the state of affairs. The natives had lost their chance, and feeling that their treachery had been discovered, they never came to me again:-- "September 22, 1871.--No natives will come near us. Abou Saood arrived with forty men to ask my permission that he might start for Khartoum. "September 23.--The natives, disappointed in their trick, will have nothing to say to us." On the 25th September the natives treacherously attacked an unarmed soldier. This man had strayed a few hundred yards from the camp, against orders, to search for wild thyme. A native met him and accosted him by the welcome "Adotto julio." The soldier advanced close, when the treacherous Bari immediately shot an arrow into him. This passed through his arm with such force that more than half the length of the arrow protruded on the other side. The soldier shouted for help, and the Bari decamped as he saw others running to the rescue. On the same day, two women were attacked when they went to fetch water, and their clothes were stolen by the natives.