It was not yet four o’clock when I was again _en route_. I thought it remarkable that all this time, although not the slightest quantity of rain or moisture was perceptible, the sky was always overcast before sunrise. I was greatly pleased when I crossed my former path at the neat little village Káluwa, the aspect of which had made so deep an impression upon me at that time. Further on I kept to the south of my former track, through a well cultivated district, where all the fields were provided with those raised platforms intended as stations for the guardians, of which I have spoken on a former occasion. Thus passing a good many villages, we made halt during the hot hours at the village Dimísugá, under a group of fine hájilíj, the inhabitants treating us hospitably. Having then continued our journey at an early hour in the afternoon, we soon passed a village which in other respects presents nothing interesting, but the name of which is remarkable as showing the facetious turn of the natives. It is called “Búne kayérde Sʿaíd,” meaning, “Sleep, and rely upon Sʿaíd,” the hamlet having evidently received this name from the native traders proceeding from the side of Bórnu, who thus evinced the confidence they felt in entering the province of the energetic Kashélla Sʿaíd, who they knew kept it in such a state of security that there was no danger from robbers. While we were proceeding through an uninhabited hilly tract, my guide suddenly left me, so that being misled by the greater width of the path, and passing the village of Jíngerí, animated at the time by a group of lively females in their best attire, and just performing a marriage ceremony, I reached the town of Wádi, which I had touched at on my outward journey, and at length by a roundabout way arrived at Borzári, where I expected my people to join me. But I looked for them in vain the whole night. They had taken the road to Grémarí. The governor treated me hospitably; but his object was to induce me to speak a word in favour of him to his liege lord.