I had been promised a guide, but he did not appear, and our palaver grew more and more constrained. I had begun by a distribution of presents, and Soulé had already received a velvet burnous, a red bubu, and two pieces of Guinea cloth, to distribute among the notables of his village, but I now stopped my largesse, declaring that the other presents were at the bottom of the hold: we must be quiet if we were to get them out, and it was impossible to do so with such a crowd about us. They should be handed over, I added, to an accredited messenger from the chief, whom he would be good enough to send with the promised guide.
Tableau! Soulé, who from the specimens he had seen of them, knew that our goods were just what he wanted, was eager for more of them. He replied that he had no one he could send for the rest of the presents, to which I retaliated that I had said my last word.
To change the subject, the chief now asked me if I would not have my guns fired off in his honour, as I had in that of the chiefs of Kompa, Goruberi, and Tenda, so that his wives left behind in the village might hear them. I saw no reason why I should say no, so I had ten rounds fired from an 86-pounder at once, which the old fellow did not seem to like much. I followed this up with a round from the machine gun, and he evidently wished himself anywhere else. I completed the sensation by showing off what I could do with my revolver, and this completely finished him off. It was too much for his courage; he named a man to act as guide at once, and made a rapid exit from the camp.
We also got rid of the crowd, but for five or six men, who, not being able to get a place in any canoes, waited in the hope that we would take them on with us.
As I had promised, so would I perform. I had my guide, and Soulé should have his presents. In his haste to be gone he had forgotten to allude to them again, for all that I gave the first messenger who had arrived, the avant-courier of his Majesty, a very fine present to take to his master, including a little musical-box, the effect of which was tremendous. I then showed off a larger one, the little organ, and the phonograph. The last-named produced a profound sensation, so that we ended by getting on to quite good terms with the natives of Madecali.
Our guide did not belong to the village. He was a Kurteye who had settled near Soulé fifteen years before. He told me that when first his fellow-countrymen came from the West, they had thought of stopping near Bussa, but that the natives already occupying the district had prevented them, so then they went up beyond Say, where at last they found a refuge.
“A year ago,” he added, “Madecali had been at war with Gomba and also with Ilo, a big village with an important market, which we should come to lower down. Peace was however now restored, and at Ilo I should easily find guides to take me down to Bussa, the chief of which is a friend of Soulé’s. Moreover, he would himself look out for pilots for me. So many words, so many lies, I soon discovered, but for the moment we took them all for Gospel truth, and were delighted at the thought of no longer having the prospect of perpetual palavers in each village before we could get guides.
Our visitor also bragged a great deal about the people of Madecali, how they were not afraid of the Foutanis; in fact, they were not afraid of anybody except perhaps Alim Sar. I made him repeat the name, and found he meant the former Amenokal of the Awellimiden, and I noted the fact as confirming my opinion of the importance of that confederation, that the name of the former chief was synonymous with power and strength. No one seemed to know that he was dead, and had been succeeded by Madidu.
GIRRIS.