This was Mohammed el Gatróni, a native of Gatrón, in the southern part of Fezzán, who, with a short interruption (when I sent him to Múrzuk with the late Mr. Richardson’s papers and effects), remained in my service till I returned to Fezzán in 1855. The zeal with which I had commenced finishing my report was well rewarded, for on the 14th the Ghadámsi merchant Abu Bakr el Wákhshi (an old man whom I shall have occasion to mention repeatedly in the course of my journey) came to Ánnur to complain of a robbery committed upon part of his merchandise at Tasáwa. But for this circumstance he would not have touched at this place, and his people, whom he was sending to Ghadámes, would have travelled along the great road by Ásodi without our knowing anything about them. Being assured by the trustworthy old man that the parcel would reach Ghadámes in two months, I sent off the first part of my report. In the course of the 15th, while sitting quietly in my tent, I suddenly heard my name, “ʿAbd el Kerím,” pronounced by a well-known voice, and looking out, to my great astonishment saw the little sturdy figure of my friend Hámma trotting along at a steady pace, his iron spear in his hand. I thought he was gone to Bilma, as we had been told; but it appeared that, having come up with the salt caravan at the commencement of the Hammáda, he only supplied them with more corn, and having conferred with them, had come back to assist his old father-in-law in the arduous task of keeping the turbulent tribes in some state of quiet. The degree of secrecy with which everything is done in this wild country is indeed remarkable, and no doubt contributes in a great measure to the influence and power of the sagacious chief of Tin-téllust.