“A little!” he exclaimed. “You must know a great deal if you would not be detected at once. But let us see what you _do_ know.” He bustled away, and presently returned with a copy of Schön’s “Maganan Hausa” in his hand. Opening the book at the “Story of the Prophet Jesus and the Skull,” he directed me to read a passage aloud and translate it. This I did with an ease that surprised myself and filled Pereira with astonishment. “Why, my dear fellow,” said he, “you have quite an excellent working knowledge of the language, and, it seems to me, a very good accent too, although quite different from that which is spoken by the Hausas down here. With a little practice your Hausa might do. But there are yet other things--the habits of the Fulahs and Hausas, which would be quite strange to you, and your ignorance of which would betray you. Then there is Arabic; every high-class Fulah knows a little Arabic and can spell out a verse or so of the Koran. Do you know any Arabic?” “Not a word.” “Well, I do. I lived for a year at Tripoli, and picked up a fair knowledge of it, and, as you seem to be naturally a good linguist, I daresay I can put you in the way of as much as you are likely to want. But the habits and customs seem to me the real stumbling-block. You know nothing of the ways of these people, and so would be detected as a stranger before you had been in their company five minutes.” I was silent for awhile. Pereira had put his finger upon what I had seen from the first was the really weak spot in my plan, and I was left without a reply. But I had no intention of giving up my scheme. “I admit the force of your objection,” I said presently, “but I must try to get over the difficulty by learning as much of the domestic habits of the Fulahs as I can before starting, and trust to acquiring the real hallmark in the course of my travels.” “Trust in Providence, in fact. Well, you are young and hopeful. But have you settled any details as to making the start on this wonderful Sindbad voyage?” “Yes,” I replied. “I have arranged with a certain David Annan that I shall accompany him on a monkey-skin expedition into North Ashánti.” “You know that Annan is a consummate rascal, I suppose?” “I guessed it. I imagine that he will probably try to rob me and make off as soon as we are fairly in the bush, which is just what I want him to do. I shall thus disappear in a graceful and natural manner, and shall not be baulked by well-meant endeavours to discover my whereabouts.” Pereira laughed. “You are an ingenious lunatic, Englefield, and deserve to succeed, but you’ve not the least chance of doing so. You had much better give up this hare-brained scheme, at least for the present, and either go home with Bithery or stay here with me and make your little pile in a sane manner.” “I tell you, Pereira,” said I, irritably, “that my mind is made up. I have arranged to go with Annan, and I am going.”