Presently, exactly at the place specified by Barth as the narrowest part of the gorge, a group of horsemen detached themselves from the Tademeket, and one of them advanced towards the edge of the cliff holding up a letter for us to see.
Already the evening before we had talked over what it would be best to do under certain circumstances should they arise. I now had the Davoust steered close to the cliff so as to be able to receive the letter from the Tuareg, but the Dantec and the Aube remained, one on the right the other on the left, ready to rake the banks with a crossfire if any hidden ambush should be discovered.
I took the letter, and Father Hacquart read it at once. It was a regular declaration of war, couched in very suitable language; diplomatists could have found no fault with it.
Yunes, chief of the Tademeket, saluted me a thousand times and wished me all prosperity. It would afford him the greatest pleasure to let us pass down the river and even to help us to do so. Unfortunately, however, we followed different routes, and I was of a different religion to his. This being so, all I had to do was to return to Timbuktu, and if I did not he would be under the necessity of declaring war against me.
I answered that it took two to go to war, and my tastes, as well as the instructions I had received from my chief, were to avoid it at any price. I should therefore go quietly down the Niger as far as it was navigable. If, however, the river became so bad that the natives on the bank were able to prevent our further progress, they could attack us, and they would then see what my reply would be.
Whilst the Father and Tierno were reading the letter I had a good look at the herald who had brought it. After delivering it he had prudently taken refuge behind a piece of rock, but seeing that we took no notice of him he first peeped out with one eye, then with both eyes, and finally ventured into the open and thus addressed me—
“Is there any hope, after all, of my getting a pair of breeches?”
The question appeared to me infinitely naïve and appropriate, for the breeches he wore were in such rags that they were scarcely decent, and the holes, drawn together with coarse thread, were bursting out afresh. Still it was not exactly the moment for asking for a new pair.
The fellow was a very good example of a begging tramp. This fault of begging has, however, its advantages, and I felt pretty sure that if we had acceded to his request in the first instance, and given a few presents to the other Tademeket, we should easily have converted their hostility to friendship.
I did not attempt it because I wanted to reserve myself for the real Awellimiden, and I was, moreover, afraid if I once began giving that some mistake or petty quarrel might make it more difficult than ever to establish good relations later.