The whole locality is essentially Tuareg, and it is an astonishing fact that the natives of the town are not of that race, nor yet sedentary vassals of Beri-Beri, or Hausa slave caste from the south, who are invariably the workers of the Tuareg camps. They are known as _Azawaren_, and so completely separate are they in race that their language is unintelligible to the true natives of the region. They are without written history, but the tribe was referred to by early geographers as a relic of the Sonrhay race, and, if that should come to be indisputably proved,[15] then at Tigguida n’Tisem, in the Sahara, the language of that once great Empire of the Niger still survives. [Illustration: “FROM THE ROOF-TOPS THEY WATCHED OUR CARAVAN”] There are about four hundred of the tribe within the walls of Tigguida, and they are entirely town people. None frequent the country-side, and they herd neither goats nor sheep. They believe that the settlement was founded by an old priest of the tribe a very long time ago. They are very pious, and carry no arms whatever, and hence know nothing of warfare, despite their living in a disturbed and dangerous region. Their prayers, and their industrious work at the salt-pans, appear to be their only interests. Seeking for records of their origin, I tried to secure an old weapon or piece of metal-work or embroidery, but failed to find anything that hinted of art in the past or in the present. Undoubtedly their two outstanding characteristics are that they are hard and careful workers, and religious far beyond the ordinary. On account of the latter trait, and the fact that they never resort to arms, the town is constantly raided, and only a few days before I arrived it was attacked by a band of some thirty robbers who had come from the Ghat-Murzuk region. No fight was made. The inhabitants simply hid in their huts until the raid, and its curse, had passed. Seven or eight people were killed and wounded, and thirty camels raided belonging to a caravan visiting the town for salt. When I arrived the inhabitants climbed to the hut roofs to scrutinise my caravan’s approach across the low flats, excited and watchful, until assured that the strange camels carried friends; for the shock of the recent raid was still fresh in their minds. But no other action revealed anything of the late disturbance, and for the most part the people were back at their salt-pans working calmly. The town of Tigguida n’Tisem is small. The tiny mud huts of the people are closely crowded together for protection from sweeping winds and sand. It is not a walled town, nor, in any way, built for defence. The surroundings are almost entirely uninhabited; vast in extent, and bleak beyond description.