FROM FAFA TO SAY j87 At last his majesty condescended to admit us to his presence.

The king of Say could not be called handsome, sympathetic, or clean. He was a big, blear-eyed man, with a furtive expression, a regular typical fat negro. He was crouching rather than sitting on a bed of palm-leaves, wearing a native costume, the original colour of which it was impossible to tell, so coated was it with filth. He was surrounded by some thirty armed men. On his left stood the chief of the captives, Abdu, with an old dried-up looking man, who I was told was the cadi of the village, and, to my great and disagreeable surprise, quite a large number of Toucouleurs. Suleyman and Abdulaye, who recognized what this meant, exchanged anxious glances with me. I now realized that my apprehensions had been well founded.

Still I took my seat quietly, without betraying any emotion, on a wooden mortar, and begun my speech.