It being reported that Kontogora was preparing to take up arms, I determined to find out the facts of the case for myself, as, if this State seriously intended causing trouble and gained any successes against us, the whole Mohammedan Empire was sure to rise to a man, and it would be difficult for us to hold our own, to say nothing of expelling the French. My orders were to remain in Boussa, but, having weighed the pros and cons very carefully, and decided that it would be well within the spirit, if not exactly the letter, of my instructions to take the action I intended, I determined to find out in person how far this rumour was true and how great the danger really was to our Imperial interests. I had mastered the Haussa tongue, the prevailing language of those regions, and could hold my own easily with the Haussas themselves, my natural aptitude for picking up tongues standing me in good stead. Consequently, without informing anyone where I was going, beyond leaving word that I was off on a shooting trip, on the night of the 17th of November, 1898, I dyed myself from head to foot a deep brown, arrayed myself in very shabby Haussa clothes, and set off, with my guide, Mama, for Kontogora. I took the name of “Abdu Maidowda”--Abdu the dirty. All carriers in Haussaland take nicknames, given them by their masters or companions. It is seldom that a white man ever knows the real names of his servants. We tramped all that night, and next morning stopped at a small village in the midst of farmlands in the N’gaski Kingdom. The whole country hereabouts was bitterly hostile to the white man’s _régime_. The state of unrest was manifest everywhere; people went armed to their work in the fields, as raids from neighbouring towns seemed to be of frequent occurrence. Although the various native kingdoms were quite at one with regard to their hatred of the white man, yet amongst themselves they were always warring and raiding for slaves--the big towns bullying the smaller villages. The main cause of this was the heavy slave tribute levied by the Sultan of Sokoto--the great head of the Moslem Church in the Sudan--on all his vassal States. Having rested for a few hours, we set out again about midday. It was fiercely hot as we trudged through the guinea-corn fields that stretched for miles all around us, and the heat, striking down from the fiery sun, that hung directly overhead, made me dizzy. I staggered along at times in a kind of hot, sweltering day-dream--seeing things that did not exist, and thinking the most absurd thoughts. Once I called a halt at a well of very dirty water, flung myself down on my hands and knees, and bathed my head and neck for several minutes, Mama looking on amused. The people in the fields were gathering in the corn in feverish haste, but every now and then they paused long enough to question us as to our destination and whence we came. We invariably told the same tale--we were travelling to Kontogora from Illorin.