He fetched a shea butter lamp and led me into a filthy little cell with black mud walls and smoke-blackened rafters, the rustlings and cracklings from which hinted broadly of mice and cockroaches. There was no window nor any opening but the unguarded doorway. “Pooh!” exclaimed Aminé, turning up her nose in disgust, “it is better to sleep in the wilderness than in this stinking little hole.” “No doubt thou art more used to the wilderness,” replied Osumánu drily. “How much?” I asked. “Fifty _kurdi_,” answered Osumánu. “I will give thee twenty,” said I. “_Albérika!_” replied mine host, using the courteous stereotyped form of refusal. “Give him twenty-five,” suggested the minstrel. “That is five for the smell,” said Aminé, sniffing disdainfully. “Thou wilt get plenty for thy money, Yúsufu.” “Thou saucy jade!” exclaimed Osumánu. “If thou wert my wife thou shouldst know the feel of a hippo hide whip.” “If I were thy wife,” retorted Aminé, “I would put something into thy soup that would make me a widow, and go and look for a man.” The Wongára raised his fist as though to strike Aminé, but I caught him by the wrist. “If thou layest a finger on my wife I will stick my knife into thy belly,” said I. “These are pleasant friends that thou hast brought, Ali,” grumbled the Wongára, licking his wrist where I had gripped it. “Give him a price and have done with it,” said Ali, as the minstrel appeared to be named, grinning with secret enjoyment. “Very well. Thirty-five, and I will not take one less.” I pulled out my bag and counted out thirty-five shells into Osumánu’s hands, whereon he departed. “If thou wilt sup with us we can share our provisions,” suggested Ali. “We will sup by ourselves,” Aminé put in quickly, evidently suspecting that we should not be the gainers by this arrangement. “We have just enough for ourselves, and no more.” Accepting the hint, Ali took himself off, and Aminé immediately set about preparing our supper. With some trouble she obtained the loan of a flat cooking pot from the uncivil Wongára woman, purchased a little shea butter and other materials, and took temporary possession of the fireplace, while I spread the mat on the ground and sat looking on. “What hast thou in thy pocket?” she asked, as she rose from the frizzling pot. “I have the remainder of what Fatima gave us and some _masa_ that I bought in the market.” “Then we shall do well for to-night,” said she gleefully, “and to-morrow we can think of when it comes.”