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Mastering Embedded Linux
Programming
Second Edition

Unleash the full potential of Embedded Linux

Chris Simmonds

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Second Edition

Copyright © 2017 Packt Publishing

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About the Author
Chris Simmonds is a software consultant and trainer living in
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 TUAREGS AND SHERIFFS AT RHERGO.

The palaver ended amicably enough, and presently other Tuaregs

crossed the creek in canoes to swell the numbers of our visitors. We
now made acquaintance with one of their most characteristic and at
the same time detestable peculiarities, namely, their incorrigible love
of begging. I know well enough that the poor fellows have nothing to
depend on but their flocks and the produce of their fields, which are
cultivated for them by the negroes, who are paid by a certain royalty
on the results. Our arrival, laden with fine stuffs, wonderful glass
beads, and all manner of gewgaws, must of course be turned to
account as much as possible. Naturally they exaggerated our
resources, and the word ikfai (give me) became a refrain dinned into
our ears every day for months. I must add, however, that no Tuareg
ever in my hearing enforced his begging by a threat. I gave often and
I gave much, for my firm belief is, that the one way for a traveller to
succeed is to conciliate the natives and win the sympathy of the
people through whose country he is passing. It is best for his own
interests, and also for those of future explorers, to be generous
whenever it is possible, but he should never give against his will, or
give anything but just what he himself chooses.

OUR PALAVER AT RHERGO.

I often yielded to respectful and courteous importunity, but would

never have done so in compliance with a demand, which would have
made a free gift appear like a compulsory tribute.
Amongst our new friends was the son of Madunia, the
centenarian chief to whom I have already alluded. He was only about
twelve years old, an incidental proof of the vigorous constitution of
the Tuaregs, or perhaps rather of the truth of the reply of a
celebrated doctor to an inquirer—“Men sometimes have children at
fifty, at sixty never, but at eighty always.”
My little friend had a very pretty face but a very bad temper. I
made him very angry by putting a five franc piece in a calabash full
of water, which I defied him to pick out. He looked at me with a
cunning expression and put out his hand, but directly he touched the
water he gave a scream and fell backwards, holding his arm as if in
pain. The fact was, I had put a bit of Ruhmkorff wire, of which I had a
coil hidden in my tent, in the bowl. The poor boy was furious, and
when the people standing about laughed at him, he wept with rage. I
consoled him with a present, and in the end we parted the best of
friends.
The next day before we started some more Tuaregs came to see
us, and I must add to beg a little present. Two of them, with a
confidence in us which quite touched us, went with us on the
Davoust, and remained on board till twelve o’clock, proving how
completely reassured they were as to our intentions. One was the
son of R’abbas, the other his brother R’alif. The former was only
about ten years old, and did not as yet wear the veil. Both were very
fine specimens of the physical beauty which, as I have already said,
characterizes the Kel Temulai race.

ARRIVAL AT THE VILLAGE OF RHERGO.

On the 6th, still much bothered by the contrary wind, we reached

Rhergo, a very large village, more ancient even, it is said, than
Timbuktu, which rose in importance at the expense of its older rival.
Recently, however, through the culpable policy which left the districts
surrounding the French settlement unprotected, Rhergo has
regained some of the trade of Timbuktu. A razzi or raid of Hoggars,
the Tuaregs from the south who murdered Flatters, cut short the
growing prosperity of the capital by almost completely ruining it. I
was surprised to hear about the Hoggars so far from their usual
haunts, but what I have just said is true enough, as will presently be
proved.
We made all our arrangements for spending a few days at
Rhergo, so as to give Abiddin time to communicate with us.
The next day the natives decided to open relations with us, and a
deputation came to interview us the first thing in the morning. We
saw them filing along the path leading from the village, which was
almost three quarters of a mile off. Before actually entering our camp
they halted, and each one of them made us a solemn salaam.
Protestations of friendship, offers of services, expressions of
devotion followed. Finally a paper was handed to us with very great
ceremony, which turned out to be a protectorate treaty which had
been concluded with Timbuktu.
There exists a perfect mania in Africa for so-called treaties, a
mania which would be harmless enough if it did not give an
altogether false idea of colonial questions to French people, who are
ignorant of the true conditions of the countries to which they refer.
These treaties, in fact, very often prove bones of contention and
litigation between different European powers, and thus attain an
importance which but for this would be altogether wanting. In the
partition of Africa European governments began by imagining a kind
of rule of the game, which consisted in giving to so-called treaties
with native chiefs a certain fictitious value. We fell in with this idea,
and it would be difficult now to go back to the old belief, that in a
game of chance the ace is more powerful than the king. To follow the
fashion therefore when we appear on the boards before international
conferences, we have to be provided with plenty of trumps, and to
produce treaties with people, shady folk enough sometimes, whom
we dub for the nonce kings or princes. Our treaties are as valid as
those made by Germans, Spaniards, or Italians, and all of them
added together, if truth and good faith were considered, would
amount simply to zero, as I shall presently have occasion to prove.

TRADERS AT RHERGO.

But when there is no special reason for pretending to the contrary,

what is the good of having such endless diplomatic rigmaroles and
such long-winded treaties, of which one of the contracting parties
does not understand a single solitary sentence?
Imagine then my astonishment at seeing on the commercial treaty
between Rhergo and Timbuktu, that the former place was bound to
pay an annual tribute to the French! Now if any one is in authority at
Rhergo it is Sakhaui, chief of the Igwadaren, and not the French,—I
speak now of course of when we were passing through on our
voyage down the Niger,—so that this promised tribute, which was
never paid, never even demanded, was certainly not calculated to
add to French prestige in these parts.
 SO-CALLED SHERIFFS OF RHERGO.

The people of Rhergo, who were worse than cunning, pleased us

but little. They called themselves sheriffs, or descendants of
Mahomet, but I think they would find it difficult to prove their
parentage, for they have neither the beauty of feature nor the
paleness of complexion characteristic of true Arabs.
In the evening Sidi Hamet returned to us from his visit to the
Igwadaren. He had been pretty well received by them, but when he
told them of our imminent approach they took fright, and thinking that
our party was a large and formidable one, they wanted to leave the
banks of the river and take refuge in the interior.
 THE ‘DAVOUST’ AT ANCHOR OFF RHERGO.

Their women, however, cried shame on them, reproaching them

for losing such a chance of presents; and to cut short all further
discussion, they threatened that any man who was coward enough
to flee from an imaginary danger would have to go without his wife.
The prospect of having their wives imitate the strike of the women
of Mycenæ, as described by Aristophanes, put a stop to the desire of
the husbands to decamp, and Sidi Hamet wound up by telling me
that all was now arranged for our friendly reception. Amongst the
Igwadaren he had seen Mohamed Uld Mbirikat, the cousin of my
friend Bechir, to whom I had a letter, and he brought back with him a
rifle which had been taken from Colonel Bonnier, and had remained
for some time in the possession of the chief of the Eastern Kel
Antassar. On hearing of our arrival the chief, not liking to keep
anything so compromising, had hastened to give the rifle to
Mohamed.
The fact is, if we could only have gone immediately to Sakhaui we
should no doubt have been well received; but unfortunately we had
promised Abiddin to wait for him at Rhergo, and during the delay our
enemies, especially the marabouts, had plenty of time to poison the
minds of the natives against us.
On the 8th Taburet and Father Hacquart went to the village, where
they met with a merchant of Timbuktu whose goods had been stolen
by an Igwadaren named Ibnu, a relation of Sakhaui, who had
probably been sent to Rhergo to spy on us. The merchant wanted to
complain to us, but the chief of the village told him that if he did he
would cut his throat when we were gone.
This chief being very infirm, I sent for his son and read him a good
lecture. I also sent for Ibnu, who came at once, and protested his
repentance for what he had done. I pretended to accept his excuses,
and presently he reappeared dragging two goats behind him, which
he offered to me. I accepted them, earnestly hoping that he had
stolen them from the sheriffs of the village, who pleased me less and
less. Then I in my turn gave him some presents, notably a garment
for his wife.
The next day we had a visit from Alif, the brother of Sakhaui, who
offered us a fine bull. We killed it with a shot from a Lebel rifle, which
alarmed the Tuaregs not a little. The next day, the 9th, back comes
Ibnu with another goat, this time for sale. But the chief object of his
visit is to ask for another length of stuff for the dress I had sent to his
wife, who he explained was as big round as our tent, and the
material I had given him would only dress one-half of her. From the
Tuareg point of view she must have been a splendid woman, for
amongst this tribe weight counts as beauty. The desired corpulence
is obtained by eating quantities of a mixture of which curdled milk is
the chief ingredient, in fact, they fatten themselves up much as the
French do the geese which are to produce paté de foie gras.
 POLITICAL ANXIETIES.

Clouds were now beginning to gather on our political horizon. Our

prolonged sojourn at Rhergo, where we waited in vain for letters
from Abiddin, must have seemed very strange to the Tuaregs, who
can have had no inkling of the reason. Moreover, a courier had come
down in a canoe from Timbuktu to see us, and though I sent him
away immediately, I felt sure that he had been seen. Putting myself
in the place of Sakhaui, and knowing the distrustful nature of the
Tuaregs, I was convinced that in his mind we were the advance
guard of a more numerous party who were to come from Timbuktu,
and of whom he stood in dread. The arrival of the courier would be
enough to confirm his suspicions. It was very evident that we ought
to start at once, if indeed there was still time for us to open really
cordial relations with the Igwadaren. Between two aims of an
importance so unequal I thought it would be wise to make a final
choice. Now to us French the Igwadaren were really not worth much,
and besides, had not they also a protectorate treaty with Timbuktu?
whilst, as I have said before, the good-will of the Awellimiden would
be of vital value to us, and I would not, if I could possibly avoid it,
lose the advantages which Abiddin’s visit to them might win for our
expedition.
On the evening of the 10th, however, all my fine plans were
completely upset. Sidi Hamet, who had been to the village, came
back with a letter for me, which had been brought by a Tuareg and
given to a slave belonging to one of the sheriffs. Strange postal
arrangements indeed! Taken in connection with the news brought to
us by Sidi Hamet, the letter was perfectly incomprehensible. In it
Sakhaui begs me to return to Timbuktu, where he says I shall find all
that I could hope to meet with further away; indeed, he pledges
himself to secure my success. At the same time, if we choose to go
on he will watch over us, but towards the end his letter becomes
almost threatening, for he says, “Take care, above all things beware
of doing any harm to any of my people!”
The next day Sidi Hamet started with a letter, and he returned at
midnight not alone, but accompanied by a big Igwadaren of manly
bearing and intelligent countenance, who answered to the name of
R’alli.
The letter from Sakhaui, he now explained to me, had been
written for him, as, like all Tuaregs, he did not know how to write
himself, by a marabout named Kel es Suk, and his meaning had
been completely distorted. Sakhaui was perfectly well-disposed
towards us, he was impatiently awaiting us, etc., etc.
Of course I only half believed what our friend R’alli said.
Moreover, he added that the marabouts, especially one who was at
Kabara before we arrived, were trying to get up an agitation against
us. We had now been waiting in vain for more than a week for news
of Abiddin, and I began to think we should never hear from him, so I
decided to go to Sakhaui, who, as already stated, was then chief of
the Igwadaren.
On the 14th we anchored close to a little tongue of land which
separates a lagoon, forming an admirable port, from the river. We
were told that the camp of Sakhaui was behind the dunes which we
could see from our anchorage.
 In the evening we were hailed from a canoe by an Arab of stunted
growth, with masses of long matted hair and bright, intelligent eyes.
He turned out to be the chief attendant of Mohamed Uld Mbirikat. His
name was Tahar, and he had been a follower of the great Beckay,
the friend of Barth.
He brought us bad news. Mohamed was ill with fever, but, he
added, for all that he would probably join us the next day.
The next morning we went round the peninsula, entered the little
lake called Zarhoi, and cast anchor opposite the spot we had just
left. Faithful to his promise, Mohamed caught us up on our way
there.
About ten o’clock the beach, which had been deserted on our
arrival, became full of life and animation, for envoys arrived from
Sakhaui, his brother, a dirty fellow, more ragged than any Tuareg I
had yet seen, leading the way, with the chief of the Kel Owi, a tribe
belonging to the little confederation which has taken the general
name of the Igwadaren.
The palaver began at once: Sakhaui is ill, besides, there is no
need for him to come himself, as his messengers are authorized to
speak for him.
In fact, the reception was not exactly what Sidi Hamet and R’alli
had led us to hope. However, Mohamed confirmed what our
messenger had said, telling us that Sakhaui had sent for him a few
days before to ask his advice, and he having assured the chief that
he would run no danger by doing so, the great man had said he
would receive us in person.
It was evident that since then the marabouts had accomplished
their purpose, describing us as traitors, perhaps even magicians
armed with terrible powers. In fact, according to their usual custom,
they had done all they could to prevent Europeans from entering into
confidential relations with the Tuaregs, for of course such relations
would be fatal to their influence.
Sakhaui’s absence put me out dreadfully. Not that I was
particularly anxious to see him, for I had no proposals to make to
him, he being under the direct control of the authorities at Timbuktu;
but I feared, and that with very good reason, that if he, the first chief
we passed on our way down the river, would not see us, his example
would be followed by all the other Tuareg leaders. It turned out just
as I expected.
Mohamed went to Sakhaui’s camp to try and persuade him to
come to us, but it was all in vain. To make up for his absence,
however, our friends of the morning came with others to beg for
presents, and I treated them liberally, for this was my last trump card,
and by playing it I hoped to induce their chief to see me.
We had other things to worry us. To begin with, the Aube leaked
terribly. We had to take everything out of the hold, and we tried to
stop up the fissures in her bottom, through which the water poured,
with lumps of putty, but it was not much good, and throughout the
whole of the rest of the voyage we were haunted with the fear of
losing one of our vessels, or at least of having to leave her behind
us.
Then one of my coolies, Semba-Sumaré, was very ill with
pneumonia, and Dr. Taburet was afraid he would die. He was
delirious, but fortunately quiet enough. Still he required careful
watching, lest in an access of fever he should be guilty of some mad
freak.
We remained where we were for the whole of the 16th, and our
friend R’alli came on board to tell us, in his comically eloquent way,
that Sakhaui really would come to see us. He was very uneasy about
us, pulled this way and that, many of his advisers urging him not to
visit us, but he, R’alli, would make him do so!
There might have been something in what R’alli said, and
although I did not much believe in his influence over the chief, I gave
him a nice present. It never does to be niggardly with these natives,
one must advertise oneself well by generous gifts.
In the evening the number of visitors increased yet more, and we
saw a good many people who were interesting to us, because they
or their relations had been mentioned by Dr. Barth, including the son
of El Waghdu, who had been the German traveller’s faithful friend on
his journey, and Kongu, a little Tuareg who had been very fond of
him, and who, in spite of certain sad presentiments he had had of a
terrible fate, had survived until now, so many years after the death of
the Doctor himself. Every one still talked of that doctor under the
name of Abdul Kerim, every one still remembered him, and once
more I must bear witness, as I shall have to do yet again and again,
to the wonderful impression left behind him by the genial German.

SAKHAUI’S ENVOYS.

Whilst we were chatting with our visitors some envoys from

Sakhaui arrived, bringing back the presents I had given to R’alli in
the morning. “He is a low impostor,” the chief had told his
messengers to tell me; “I am ashamed of his behaviour, for he never
ceases to talk, without rhyme or reason, and he promised to give us
a cow as a present when every one knows he has not got one.”
R’alli sent to ask if I would see him again, and when I replied that I
would, he came and held forth for a long time. He began by
declaring that he wished he were dead. He wanted to return the
presents, extraordinary desire indeed in a Tuareg. As he went on the
people standing by began to make hostile demonstrations, daggers
were half drawn from their sheaths, and for a moment I feared that
the whole thing was a farce got up with a view to pillaging us in the
confusion of a pretended tumult. But I was wrong, and the weapons
were sheathed again without having drawn any blood. The other
Igwadaren were really jealous of R’alli, because they thought he had
been better treated than themselves, and they were also perhaps
indignant with him for the friendly feeling he had manifested for us. If
R’alli really was a humbug, as I always fancied he was, yet he had
been the first to approach us without any of that stupid suspicious
defiance which so long prevented us from living on really good terms
with the Tuaregs. All this I explained to the assembled crowds as
best I could, winding up with, “If R’alli really is so little worthy of
confidence, wasn’t it too bad of Sakhaui to send him to us at Rhergo
as his accredited messenger?”
Moreover, I declared that I meant to do as I choose with my own
property, even if I gave it to a slave or a dog, so I ordered R’alli to
take back his presents, which he was evidently glad enough to do,
and all ended peaceably.
We also had a visit from Achur, the brother of Sakhaui, chief of
the so-called imrads or serfs, and the son of the chief of the Eastern
Kel Antassar, who, though he had not joined his relation N’Guna in
his struggle against the French, had nevertheless withdrawn on our
approach.
I had now lost all hope of seeing Sakhaui. Was he afraid of
compromising himself with his people? I wondered. Had the
marabouts incited him against us by rousing his fears of some
hostile intentions on our part? The best plan, I thought, would be to
give up urging him to visit us, and to go to his brother and enemy
Sakhib, whose camp was opposite to his on the other side of the
river.
Our passage through the country, if it did not do much good, could
not do much harm either. So near to Timbuktu, with people all
virtually under French protection, I should not venture to engage in
any diplomatic or military enterprise on my own account, for of
course to do so would be to encroach on the province of the
supreme authority in the French Sudan. Is it too much to hope that
our gentleness and our patience will make it easier later to establish
really satisfactory relations with the Tuaregs? We shall have shown
by our conduct that we are not the ferocious beasts our enemies
chose to represent us to be. Moreover, some of the Tuaregs, no
matter how few, will be grateful for the presents we have given them,
and as those presents really were very handsome ones, I hope that
the fame of our generosity will precede us, and incite the tribes
through whose territories we have to pass to make friends with us.
To avoid having to give any more presents we got under sail early
on the 17th, but the wind got up and compelled us to anchor
amongst the grass at the entrance to the Zarhoi lagoon. We were
scarcely gone before, as we had foreseen, the Igwadaren arrived in
numbers at the scene of our recent encampment, and were greatly
discomfited at finding that the goose which laid the golden eggs had
flown away. But they soon spied us in our new anchorage, and
hurried to hail us, entreating us again with eager gestures and
shouts to land. They wanted to re-open the profitable intercourse
with us, but the comedy was played out now. At about eleven o’clock
we were able to resume our voyage along the left bank, followed for
some little distance by a regular cavalcade, amongst whom Sidi
Hamet thought he recognized Sakhaui himself. We now crossed the
river, and cast anchor near another tongue of land a little above
Sakhib’s camp at Kardieba, where Mohamed Uld Mbirikal was to
rejoin us.
 OUR COOLIES’ CAMP AT ZARHOI.

It soon became pretty evident that we should see no more of

Sakhib than we had of Sakhaui. If he had wished ever so much to
pay us a visit, his dignity would have compelled him to act exactly as
his brother had done. His envoys, however, duly arrived, charged
with friendly messages, and accompanied, or rather preceded, by
Mohamed.
By right of birth Sakhib is the true chief of the Igwadaren. His
brother turned against him, and seduced a part of the tribe from their
allegiance, on account of a love affair which was related to me as
follows: a belle of the neighbourhood had been the mistress of
Sakhaui when still quite a young girl. Knowing nothing of this,
Sakhib, enamoured of her charms, married her with an ingenuous
haste by no means peculiar to Africa, and discovering too late that
he had been forestalled, he repudiated her. This modern Helen then
returned to form a new union with her former lover Sakhaui. Inde
iræ.
 The story may or may not be true, but my private opinion is that
the real reason for the enmity between the brothers is to be sought in
the Igwadaren character, which is also the cause of the state of
perpetual anarchy in which the natives live, resulting in the absolute
ruin of the Niger districts from Rhergo to Tosaye.
I shall have more to say later of the peculiarities of the Tuaregs,
but I prefer to relate my experiences amongst them before I presume
to pass judgment on them. I think very highly of them in many
respects, but for all that I do not shut my eyes to their defects. In the
interests of truth, however, I wish to remark here, that from the very
first I saw reason to draw a broad line of demarcation between what I
may call the large confederations, ruled by laws sanctioned by long
tradition, and the small tribes altogether inferior to them in morality,
which may be said to form a kind of scum on the borders of the more
important societies.
There are, in fact, certain hordes of mere brigands, who obey no
chief, and depend entirely for their livelihood on robbery and pillage,
and there is also amongst the Tuaregs, with whom we have now
especially to deal, one important tribe which has gradually, partly
from the ambition to be independent and to obey no laws but its own,
and partly from contact with the foreigner, has lost all the virtues of
the Tuaregs and retained all their defects.
The tribe to which I allude is that known as the Igwadaren, from
which sprang the Ioraghen, who form so large an element in French
Algeria, and for a long time they were the allies, or rather were
subject to the Awellimiden. Just at the time of Barth’s voyage they
had tried to separate from the rest of their tribe, and relying upon the
aid of the Fulahs, who had invaded Massina, to get the upper hand.
From Barth’s narrative we know that the great desire of his protector
El Beckay was to prevent the division, and his greatest grief the fact
that he failed to do so.
The Awellimiden repulsed the Fulahs, and since then the
Igwadaren, traitors to their fellow-countrymen, have been looked
upon by them as enemies whom they were justified in raiding
whenever they got the chance, and really I cannot blame them, for it
serves the Igwadaren right.
When for the second time El Hadj Omar and his Toucouleurs tried
by force of arms to restore the supremacy of an intolerant and
barbarous Islamism, El Beckay, as we have already said, rose up
against him in the cause of tolerance and a more humane
interpretation of the doctrines of Mahomet. The Awellimiden, with the
Iregnaten of the right bank of the Niger, were his auxiliaries. The
great leader, as we have seen, died before his work was done, but
he had broken the shock of the storm. A last wave of the tempest of
revolt which had arisen in the west surged up to the walls of
Timbuktu, which had been reached by an army of Toucouleurs, but
they were surprised and massacred near Gundam. Once more the
Tuaregs were saved, and all the prudent measures of Tidiani, the
politic successor of El Hadj, could not advance the invasion by so
much as a single step. It taxed to the uttermost all the resources of
his astute and supple genius to maintain the territory already
conquered in a state of servitude. It was reserved to the French to
drive from it his cousin and successor Amadu.
In all the struggles which followed, however, and peace was not
restored for thirty years, the Igwadaren always, if it were anyhow
possible, sided with the foreigner against their fellow-countrymen.
The state of anarchy which began with the chiefs of course
spread downwards amongst the mere warriors, and whilst amongst
the larger confederations of tribes there are certain traditions
checking the unrestrained use of brute force, there is nothing of the
kind with the Igwadaren, with whom might is right. Sakhaui and
Sakhib, brothers though they were, came to open blows. Each
warrior of the tribe joined the leader he preferred, but this very fact
reduced the power of both to next to nothing. The negro villages
passed into the possession first of one side and then of the other,
according to the varying fortunes of war, and the traders had their
goods stolen with no hope of redress. The result in the ruin of the
country was only too patent to every one’s observation.
 The arrival at Timbuktu of the French was a very lucky thing for
the Igwadaren. As they could no longer count upon the support of
the Toucouleurs, who were at loggerheads with us, they might easily
have been reduced to servitude by the Awellimiden, and no doubt
but for our presence they would in their turn have become, as had so
many others, mere imrads or serfs.
Acting on the wise advice of Mohamed, Sakhaui sent some
messengers to Timbuktu. He had signed, or was supposed to have
signed—for no Tuareg can read or write Arabic—all the treaties he
was asked to, and that all the more readily that he did not
understand a single word of their contents. Whilst expressing all the
good feeling towards us of which he had just given our party such a
striking proof, he sheltered himself under our moral protection
against his powerful neighbours on the east. Having thus turned the
presence of the French to the best possible advantage, and that
really very cleverly, Sakhaui and his people were free to continue
their evil doings unchecked, whilst Sakhib, at war with his brother,
also knew as well as he did how to play his cards in the diplomatic
game.
The one thing then which the Igwadaren dreaded was, that the
French should make an alliance with the Awellimiden, for that would
upset all their plans. Though they did not dare oppose our passage
by force, they painted us in the very blackest colours to their nearest
neighbours, and we had to thank them for the bad reception we got
from their relations the Tademeket Kel Burrum at Tosaye, and also
for the difficulties we had had to contend with at the beginning of our
negotiations with the Awellimiden.
I was told that Sakhib was more just in his dealings and less of a
robber than his brother, with whom he had hastened to patch up a
temporary truce when he heard of our approach. Moreover, just then
the Igwadaren Aussa under Sakhaui had no intention of fighting.
There was a rumour that the Awellimiden were about to make a raid
upon them, and from our boat we could see oxen, sheep, and
women hurrying to the banks on the opposite side of the river, in the
hope of finding a refuge on the islands dotting its course. I did not
put much faith in the rumour myself. If, however, it be well founded,
we shall no doubt be able to turn it to account.
The whole of the 19th was occupied in receiving visits from all the
brothers, cousins, uncles, and big and little nephews of the petty
chief. At one time our camp really presented a most imposing and
picturesque appearance. I had had a cord stretched all round it, and
this cord formed a kind of moral protection—for of course it could
easily have been passed—against the curiosity of our visitors, whilst
at the same time it prevented our coolies from mixing too freely and
getting involved in quarrels with them.

OUR BICYCLE SUZANNE AMONGST THE TUAREGS.

Baudry mounted our bicycle Suzanne, and to the intense

astonishment of the Tuaregs spun round the flat ground separating
our camp from a low line of dunes. The iron horse, as she was
dubbed, very soon became celebrated far and near, and crowds
came daily to stare at her.