There was an old blind sheik who frequently visited us from the other side, and this poor old fellow came to an untimely end when returning one day with his son from marketing at Tewfikeeyah. I was walking on the quay, when I heard a great commotion, and I saw a splashing in the river, the surface of which was covered with the ambatch fragments of a native canoe. There were many canoes on the river, several of which immediately went to the assistance of two men who were struggling in the water. A hippopotamus had wantonly charged the canoe, and seizing it in his mouth, together with the poor old blind sheik who could not avoid the danger, crunched the frail boat to pieces, and so crushed and lacerated the old man that, although he was rescued by his comrades, he died during the night. As peace and confidence had been thoroughly established among the Shillooks, I determined to send for the governor of Fashoda, and to introduce him personally to the old king, Quat Kare, whom he had officially reported to be dead. I therefore summoned Quat Kare, and having informed him of my intention, I sent the steamer to Fashoda (sixty-five miles), and invited the Koordi to pay me a visit. When he arrived, I received him beneath the tree which formed my divan, and after a preliminary pipe and coffee, we proceeded to business. I told him that he must have been in error when he reported the death of the old king, as I had proved him to be still alive. He replied that he did not believe the real Quat Kare was in existence, as he had heard on the best authority that he was dead. I gave an order to an aide-de-camp, and in a few minutes the tall and stately figure of the old king was seen approaching, accompanied by his wives, ministers, and a crowd of most orderly retainers, including several of his sons. The king sat down upon a carpet in a dignified manner, without taking the slightest notice of the Koordi governor. His two wives sat down by him, but his sons stood with his followers a few yards distant.