Notwithstanding my reconciliation with the Mandingo merchants, I did not think it prudent to set out with them, and I sought a better opportunity of travelling through the Fouta-Dhialon. I thought that I had found one when I made acquaintance with a Mandingo, a very devout man, according to his own account, who was honoured with the title of sherif. I did not hesitate to ask leave to accompany him to Tembo, the capital of Fouta-Dhialon: he consented very readily, and, when I offered him a reward he replied, with downcast eyes, that whatever he did would be for the love of God and the prophet, and that there was only one thing which he should beg of me, and that was to obtain a passport from the governor of Sierra-Leone. In spite of my entreaties and all I could do, the governor had given me no answer on the day before that which we had fixed for our departure. I went to inform Ibrahim (for that was my guide’s name) of this unlucky circumstance, and he did not chuse to wait any longer for me. He hastened his journey, and took with him an Arabian dress that I had had made and left with him the evening before. As soon as I recollected this, I ran after the devout sherif and asked for my bundle: he pretended to be greatly surprised at first, and then, rubbing his forehead, exclaimed, with the air of a man who is vexed: “O, good God! those rogues of slaves have gone on before, and taken your clothes along with them; but be not uneasy, I will send them back to you.” The safest way would have been to have detained the thief by way of hostage; but it was dangerous for me to make enemies, and I allowed him to continue his journey, reflecting sorrowfully, as I returned home, upon the knavish disposition of my new African friends. Since I had been at Freetown I had resumed the French costume. Perhaps, said I, these Moors have found out my imposture; I give myself out for an Arabian and a Musulman, without forsaking my European dress and habits; I cannot act my part completely unless I renounce them. I could not well effect this change at Sierra-Leone; for the white inhabitants, who were all acquainted with my person, would not have been more indulgent to me than those of St. Louis. I thought therefore of leaving Freetown, and proposed to go to a place where I might land in my Arabian dress without inconvenience. I fixed upon Kakondy, a village situated on the Rio Nuñez, fifty leagues to the north of Sierra-Leone, where I knew that there was no European establishment.