“Moreover, if we knew their power, they also ought to know ours. Evil might result to us, but worse would befall them.
“In any case it was more consistent with their dignity and self-respect, as well as with ours,—for were not we as well as they of noble race?—to know with whom they had to deal. The Sultan of the white men had chosen me because of my relationship with Abdul Kerim, who was the friend of the Kuntas and the Awellimiden. What must I tell that Sultan on behalf of Madidu? Was it to be peace or war?”
This speech was clear enough, and the reply was no less so.
“Madidu greets you. If you have come with pacific intentions, as you said yesterday to the men from Gao, he is your friend; he will give you guides to take you where you will, to Say or to Sokoto. If evil should overtake you it will be from heaven, Madidu answers for it none shall come from earth.”
This beginning could not but please us.
We told the young Kunta, who acted as second envoy, that we were on good terms with his relations at Timbuktu and Kagha; and then we tried to amuse our visitors, bringing out our bicycle, phonograph, musical box, etc. All our attractions were paraded, in fact, and then, after consulting with Father Hacquart, I decided on a grand coup. Without asking for anything or adding another word, I bade the ambassador farewell, giving him the beautiful velvet saddle to take to Madidu.
The canoe shot back across the river. We saw a Tuareg advance from amongst a group of horsemen, mounted on a fine bay horse, and, strange to say, carrying a musket. He came to meet the envoys as they landed; they handed the saddle to him, and when they caught sight of it, the Tuaregs behind him clashed their shields and uttered shrill cries.
The canoe returned immediately. The horseman we had just seen receive the saddle was Madidu himself; he thanked us a thousand times for our beautiful present, and even wished to come to us, but his brothers, fearing treachery or sorcery, had prevented him from doing so. Our generosity had hit the mark, and judging from the manner of the blacksmith, we could make a very shrewd guess at what were the feelings of his master.
It was the messenger’s turn now, and I gave him a beautiful present of stuffs, beads, knives, and veils, with which he was delighted. There were, however, still two things that Madidu wanted, but if it was difficult to meet his wishes, he did not dare to insist too much, for we had already given him more than either he or his ancestors had ever received.
The first thing was ten silver pieces, not for himself, but for his wife. She had heard him speak of that white metal which could be worked like copper, and of which ornaments were made, but which was not really copper, and she did so long to see some for herself. This wish was easy enough to gratify, and to the ten five-franc pieces I added two gold rings.