We this time kept a little more towards the east than on our outward march, approaching closer to the river of Logón. Only a short tract of clear forest separated the cultivated grounds of Démmo from another village, where, besides Negro corn, we found tobacco and cotton in friendly community on the same piece of ground. We had already seen much cultivation of tobacco in this country, and were impressed with the opinion, however strange it may seem, that it was an indigenous plant, and not introduced at a recent period; we had moreover been informed that not only the men, but even the women in this country, are passionately fond of smoking. But as for cotton, we had not yet seen any in the whole tract of the Músgu country which we had travelled over; and its appearance here seemed to be a step in advance towards civilization, caused, probably, by the influence of the neighbouring town of Logón. After a short interruption, there followed another village, which was succeeded by forest, and then another swamp, at present dry, and overgrown with tall rank grass, but difficult to pass on account of innumerable holes. Shortly afterwards the country on our right assumed an open and very pleasant appearance, a river with a clear sheet of water, but apparently without a current, winding through it in tortuous meanderings, and closely approaching the higher ground along which the numerous host was pursuing its march. The slope was adorned with wild fig-trees and acacias, which were overshadowed by two fine deléb-palms. This open country was succeeded by the well-cultivated and shaded fields, which lay stretched out between the scattered courtyards of another village; and here we encamped, my companion and I pitching our tents near a beautiful sort of fig-tree, of the species called “báure” by the Háusa, and “kágo” by the Kanúri, or at least the Mánga. The whole village was deserted; only a few neglected members of the poultry tribe were running about, endeavouring to escape from the hands of their greedy pursuers. It was a very hot day, the hottest we had on this expedition, the thermometer at half-past one in the afternoon indicating 100° in the cool shade of our fine fig-tree. The encampment was cheerful and pleasant; but in the evening a frightful alarm arose—the rumour being spread that the pagans were attacking the “ngáufate,”—the great drum of the commander-in-chief keeping up a tremendous din, and all the people hurrying along in every direction. The alarm was so great that my companion gave up his tent, and retreated with his people to that of the vizier; and I found myself obliged to allow my two servants to follow him also. As for myself, I remained where I was, for I felt little inclination to have my tent once more plundered, as had been the case on our expedition to Kánem. It soon proved to be nothing but a false alarm.