His task no sooner accomplished, however, our young friend, the son of El Mekki, became rather a bore, for he had taken it into his head to try and convert us to the religion of Islam. Truth to tell, the reasons he gave for this attempt at proselytism did more honour to his heart than to his head.
“We know each other now,” he said, “and you are just going away. We like you, and we think that you like us. We cannot hope ever to see you again in this life, do not deprive us of the chance of meeting you once more in another world.
“When we are all dead, we faithful followers of the true faith will go to enjoy everlasting happiness in Paradise. You, however, who are good fellows enough, will not be able to cross El Sirat, the bridge leading to the gardens of Paradise, but will have to go to Hell, where you will burn eternally, and we shall be able to do nothing for you but pity you.
“Well then,” he went on, “do not remain in this evil case; stay amongst us for a time, and you shall be instructed in the essentials of our faith. We shall thus be enabled to hope to meet you again in eternity.”
The most amusing part of it all was that Father Hacquart, whose Arab costume had especially attracted our young visitor, was the chief victim of the ardent proselytism of the earnest Tuareg believer.
For a missionary to be attacked in this way was really too comic, and the Father roared with laughter over the incident.
When night fell we had to separate, and our friend left us, quite melancholy at the failure of all his eloquence.
We arrived at Farca the next morning, the 26th, at about two o’clock.
The chief of the village, brother of the chief of Sinder, and father of the young man who had been killed by Captain Toutée’s sentinel, with a number of other notables, came to see us.
They confirmed all we had already been told; it had really been with the people of Sinder, not with the Tuaregs, that the preceding expedition had come to blows.