A big school is also being built, to which the surplus pupils of the Djenné Arabic College will be sent. Altogether Mopti is a very go-ahead little town, and certainly one of the most prosperous on this section of the Niger.

At Mopti I was introduced to an interesting French merchant, M. Simon. This gentleman has done much to try to improve the quality of rice put on the market by the Macina Province. I mentioned that a quantity of this rice was exported to Senegal, but it did not find great favour there, because it was dirtier in appearance than the Indo-China rice, also the latter could be bought almost as cheaply at St. Louis as Macina rice. The high rate of transport on the Senegal-Niger Railway was largely responsible for this big price. M. Simon was of opinion that if the rice were cleaned locally it would be more appreciated at St. Louis, and, further, that by setting up a mill at Mopti, the cost of unhusking it could be materially reduced, permitting it to be sold at a lower price and thereby successfully competing with the Indo-China article. The rice is not really dirty, but grain grown in this country has a small reddish streak in it which gives it an unappetizing appearance in comparison to the milky white rice from Indo-China.

M. Simon has imported a mill which can perform three distinct operations:

(1) Clean the rice.

(2) Unhusk it.

(3) Scrape off the red skin.

This mill can treat 2000 tons per annum. M. Simon proposes to import a 100-h.p. engine which will be able to deal with 2000 tons yearly. By this means he will be able to so lower the cost of his rice as to sell it at St. Louis for 180 francs per ton, instead of 210 francs, the present price. When the Thies-Kayes Railway, connecting Kayes with the coast, is finished it is thought that it will be possible for Government to reduce the freights by rail considerably, and a further fall in the price of Soudan-grown rice may be confidently looked for.

Owing to the trouble in the engine-room it was found necessary to wait at Mopti for two days. Here also there was a suitable opportunity of punishing the malefactors who were responsible for the breakdown. We were all very pleased to hear that they had been heavily fined and had had their licences taken away by the Commissioner.

The night of my arrival I dined with the French officials, and one of the dishes consisted of some excellent venison, which I was told was a haunch of wart-hog. It appeared that these beasts were plentiful in the vicinity of Mopti, so it was arranged the next day to have a shooting expedition in the wart-hog country. The animals were on the other bank of the Niger, a very early start being necessary in order to reach their haunts by daybreak. My French friends were unable to accompany me at the last moment owing to pressure of work. At 4 a.m. I started off in pitch darkness, being paddled down the river in the Government canoe by a couple of sturdy Bosos.

The air was chilly at that hour as we moved swiftly through the water. Stillness reigned around us for the first half-hour, until, about dawn, the phantom shapes of flighting duck and geese began to show themselves. At the risk of being a bit late for the wart-hog I could not resist the chance of some sport with the duck on the river, so I ordered my canoemen to paddle the craft into a sheltered nook under the reeds, where I was concealed and in a good position for the birds as they flew overhead. We were evidently at last getting into the waterfowl region, for hitherto I had seen but few on the Niger. After some pleasant sport in which I managed to collect three or four varieties of duck, besides a goose and some teal, I urged the canoe boys to hurry on to the spot where I was to land. The sun was just rising as we stepped ashore at a small village. The country was a swampy tract along the river bank, such as the wart-hog delights to roam in. On the west, as the ground became firmer, it was covered with patches of mimosa bush and low scrub, where the pig would come and feed in the early morning and evening, while during the day they made their lair in the low ground. We had not gone far when a grey object loomed up in the still, uncertain light, looking so much like the trunk of a mimosa tree that I hesitated whether or not to fire. The object was not more than seventy yards away, affording an easy shot. During that interval of uncertainty I saw the thing suddenly turn and gallop away at a good pace, settling the question of its identity once and for all! It certainly was a wart-hog, so I took a flying shot at its retreating form. It careered on however, untouched, with its tail contemptuously curled up behind it, in the ludicrous fashion adopted by these animals when frightened. I had started the morning badly, and could not help thinking I was unlikely to get another such easy chance.

Tracks there were in plenty, but it was not till I was well on my way back that I managed to shoot one. My first indication of his presence was given by hearing the peculiar grunt to which they give vent when disturbed. He only trotted a few yards off, however, before halting to stare at me, thus giving an easy chance. These animals are very stupid and curious; indeed, I think they show more inquisitiveness than antelopes. I have frequently watched a wart-hog turn round to stare at his pursuer four or five times before he gets out of range; the result is, of course, often fatal to him. The curious excrescences on the beast’s face undoubtedly make him one of the ugliest of living creatures, and the white, curling tusks projecting from his jaws tend to enhance his uncouth appearance. Wart-hog are very plentiful all along the Niger, from Mopti to Timbuctu. The “Bend” of the river is one of their favourite habitats, particularly that portion where water is plentiful, and which is generally called the lake district. I have often seen them in droves of eight or ten, and have generally found them far from being wary, so that they are easily approached. Their sight is bad, but they appear to have a fairly keen sense of smell. I do not think they have very sharp hearing.

On the way back to the canoe we made a detour through some grassy country, where I picked up a couple of lesser bustard. I also saw some greater bustard, but my efforts to approach within rifle-shot of these very cunning-birds were unavailing. Both kinds of bustard seemed to be common about here, but the greater was less common than the lesser species.

At the village on the river bank I had to wait a short while for the meat of the wart-hog to be brought in. The headman of the place asked me, with well-meant hospitality, to rest from the heat of the sun in his house, but after a glimpse inside I decided it was far cooler and pleasanter under a tree in the open air. The houses in this part of the country are made of mud, circular in shape, with roofs of grass thatch. Verandahs are unknown, and as there is but one small door, ventilation is very indifferent. The houses in the hot weather are like ovens, for I suppose the temperature in the day is well over 100 degrees inside them. At night the numerous members of a large family are all crowded together in this small space, so that I should imagine the atmosphere must be even more intolerable than by day.

On our way up the river to Mopti I saw several white egrets. These beautiful birds, which used to abound on the Upper and Middle Niger, have greatly decreased in numbers during the last few years. The reason for this is that a great trade in egret feathers used to be done by French merchants, and thousands of the creatures used to be slaughtered to supply the market. I was told of several men who had made considerable fortunes in this way. The practice was particularly cruel, as the most valuable feathers only grow during the mating season, the massacre of the birds thus tending rapidly to wipe out the whole species. The matter was, however, strongly represented to the French authorities, who took strict measures to suppress the wanton destruction of egrets on the Niger. A fine of 1000 francs is now imposed on any offender, and the result of this law has had a most salutary effect in preventing these birds from being shot, so that it is much to be hoped that in a few years they may have regained their former numbers. The best feathers are found on the back, and comparatively few can be obtained from one bird, consequently a large number of egrets must be killed to produce a fair “bag” of feathers. Besides the white egret there is also a grey egret. The latter variety is not so valuable as its white relation, but the colour is a very beautiful French grey.

At Mopti one of the merchants had a tame lioness. This beast was quite a cub when it was captured, and the story of its capture is rather an interesting one. One day when shooting near the river banks he had killed the mother of a big family of lion cubs, and was leaving the scene of the exploit when he heard a whining noise in the bush hard by. On searching in the foliage he discovered this young lioness, which refused to follow the example of its brothers and sisters who had all bolted at the report of the rifle. This little beggar appeared to be heart-broken at its mother’s death, refusing to leave the spot. She was easily captured, and has been a pet ever since. She was about twelve months old when I made her acquaintance, being kept chained up in the courtyard at the back of the trader’s house. Her owner says she is perfectly harmless, but I would not feel inclined to trust her very much—her manners were decidedly rough! She used to play with the dog when younger, and I was told they were fast companions. A beast of this description is certainly difficult and expensive to feed when it arrives at maturity. Our friend in this case used to make a meal off a big sheep or else two goats daily. She was not given a full ration, for, as the Frenchman her master explained, if she were too well fed she would grow so strong as possibly to be unmanageable. I am afraid that even now she is getting out of hand, and any day may have to be destroyed to prevent a disaster.

While at Mopti I met a young Frenchman who had been wounded in rather a strange way when on a hunting expedition. As may be gathered from the following story he was not very experienced, or such an accident could never have occurred. He and a friend had made up a shooting expedition in the same locality where I had been for wart-hog. They separated at one patch of bush, with the intention of meeting on the other side. The young fellow, thinking he would have a lark at his friend’s expense, and apparently never dreaming of the danger he might incur, made his way through the bush in the direction of his friend, halting every now and then to emit a grunt in imitation of a pig. The other sportsman, seeing a dark object half-concealed in the foliage, and thinking by the noise it made that it was a wart-hog, fired his rifle. To his horror as the object dropped it uttered an unmistakably human cry of pain. He then discovered that he had fired at his friend, wounding him severely in the leg. Under the circumstances the latter was distinctly fortunate not to suffer worse injuries. He might very easily have been killed, and, of course, no blame could have attached to his companion. The young man had been on crutches for some months at the time I saw him, but luckily the injury would not permanently affect him. Another fortunate point in the business was that the bullet was not a sporting one, but solid-nosed, and simply went straight through the leg, emerging on the other side without shattering the bone, as it unquestionably would have done had it been of a different make.

Before I left Mopti the Commissioner returned. He had been to Djenné to buy wood for building the school. It is a strange fact that at Mopti there is practically no wood. Almost the only wood suitable for building purposes in this part of the French Soudan, and indeed for many hundred miles down-stream below Timbuctu, is the wood of the dum palm. At Djenné this tree grows profusely.

The great enemy of the carpenter in West Africa is the white ant. This tiny creature has a most voracious appetite for wood, but certain kinds, amongst others the dum palm and the cocoanut palm, are impervious to his attacks. White ants always work in large numbers. They can be seen travelling along in armies of several thousand, marching in single file or two deep, and following a little groove or channel which they have excavated for themselves. Their presence in wood is first detected—if you are lucky—by observing a narrow streak of earth running along the object they are attacking. This is in reality a tunnel, which covers them and affords them shelter while they work at the wood underneath. They are most persistent little creatures, seldom abandoning the object they are devouring until they have eaten right through it.

If you are not fortunate enough to discover their presence by the appearance of the earthen tunnel, your first intimation will probably be given by the sudden collapse of the particular article upon which they have concentrated their efforts. If this happens to be one of the uprights which support the roof of your house, even if you have the good luck to escape without personal injury, it is trying to suddenly find the building in ruins. Hence the necessity of using a wood which can resist their onslaughts. Tarring wood will to a certain extent keep them off, but it is by no mean reliable. The only way to preserve wooden boxes and similar articles, which generally rest on the ground, is to put saucers of water underneath, for the ants will not then be able to climb on to the wooden surface.

Ants of several species are common in West Africa. Another kind, which is in many ways more irritating even than the white ant, is the driver ant. This animal also travels in big armies like the one already referred to. The “driver” is only found in bush-country. I never came across it in the drier, sandy soil of the Western Soudan, where vegetation is not so luxurious as in the countries nearer the sea-coast. He is brown, and larger than the white ant. His particular hobby is to bite. He is certainly an adept in the art of biting, as his unlucky victim soon discovers to his cost. The “driver” is often seen on a bush path in the daytime, when the best way of avoiding a close acquaintanceship is to leap over the track he is following, and then vigorously shake your feet as soon as you have got well out of his range, for despite all precautions some of the followers in the army will be fairly certain to have succeeded in attaching themselves to your legs as you passed.

But when the “driver” elects to come at night, as he frequently does, you probably have no warning of his approach until you feel his bite. Once they have settled on a victim they swarm mercilessly over him in thousands, and, if left to work their evil will unmolested, they will not leave the object of their attacks until they have devoured it. I recollect on one occasion having a very miserable night owing to “drivers.” I had gone to bed rather tired after a long day’s march, when I suddenly woke up with unpleasant stinging pains in my legs. I quickly realized that I had been attacked by “drivers.” Leaping out of bed and striking a light I discovered my blankets were covered with a black swarm of these horrible creatures, several of which had settled themselves on my limbs with some tenacity. On summoning my servant we tracked the long line for about a hundred yards down the clearing in which I was camped to some dank vegetation out of which they were emerging. The only chance of turning them aside and getting a little sleep that night was to light a fire across their tracks.

To add to the general discomfort it was pouring with rain, and a fire was not an easy thing to kindle; however, at the cost of most of the kerosene of which I was possessed, we managed to light a fire and head them off. In such cases it is usually the best policy to shift your camp and leave the ants the masters of the field, for they are extremely hard to turn aside, and I have seen them put out a fire by sheer force of numbers. In some parts of the country, where the natives are pagans and indulge in human sacrifice, a common method of killing their victim is to tie the individual up, stripped of clothing, in such a position that movement is impossible, leaving the “driver” ants to consume the body. The tortures of such a slow, agonizing death must be terrible. A friend of mine once had two puppies devoured in this way. His fox-terrier bitch had a litter of three puppies one evening, and the following morning only one remained. The ants had invaded the dog’s basket during the night, and the mother had only been able to save a single member of her family from her pertinacious enemies.

CHAPTER XIV

Fulani cattle — Lake Dhebo — Duck shooting — Teal — A tough bird — The Niger River winds — Towing a barge — Niafounké — The edge of the Sahara — Stalking birds — Sheep-farming — Developing the wool trade — Raided by a leopard — Ostrich-farming.

ON the 9th of March we left Mopti, finding considerably more water in this section of the Niger, chiefly due to the increase in its volume caused by the influx of the Bani. On both banks there were now wide stretches of rich green grass springing luxuriantly out of the spongy soil, which even at this season was covered with several inches of water. Big herds of Fulani cattle, often immersed to the withers in water, could be seen grazing as we steamed easily past the banks. The cattle had a strange appearance, as not much more than their heads were visible, but stranger still was the cowherd, who, mounted on one of his beasts, also in the water, the better to supervise their feeding, urged them on from time to time with weird cries and thwacks from his staff.

The grass which grows on the banks of the river from Mopti and away down the Middle Niger is called “borgou.” It is very fattening, as it contains a large percentage of sugar, hence probably the fine condition of the herds in this region.

The river was more than ever broken up into creeks and channels; to me it seemed a hopeless task to know which was the correct one to follow, so similar and so numerous were they. Often the wider branches were merely backwaters, running a few miles inland; but the pilots were never puzzled and evidently knew their work well. Sometimes on one of the swampy banks there would be a large open piece of water, upon which could be seen myriads of duck and geese revelling in their feeding-grounds undisturbed by the sportsman.

As we progressed a thick mist began to enshroud the landscape. We were approaching the great lake, Dhebo, around which this curious mist generally hangs. About 5.30, just as the sun was setting, we reached the lake. The entrance is marked by two curious bare sandstone hills, standing out like sentries above the surrounding flat country. As the “Réné Caillé” suddenly emerged from the river as far as the eye could see there was a wide expanse of water covered with miniature, frothy waves, which, except for the occasional patches of reeds peering here and there above the surface, might easily have been mistaken for the sea. The lake, however, is very shallow. In many places a man could wade across without much difficulty. Dhebo forms a natural reservoir for the waters of the Niger in a singular manner. When the rains fall in the mountains of Tembikunda and Futajallon, in French Guinea, the Upper Niger naturally rises and the lake fills up. This continues from about June to October. All this time the Middle Niger, which has no tributaries, owing to the dearth of mountains and the proximity of the desert, is getting dry, more especially as rain on that portion of the river is so infinitesimal in quantity as to be of no consequence. Towards the end of the rains the lake fills up and overflows, replenishing the Middle Niger. The overflow from Dhebo continues to fill up the Middle Niger, but all this time the upper river is decreasing in volume owing to the cessation of the rains in the Guinea Mountains. Hence the curious phenomenon is observed of the Upper Niger subsiding as the Middle Niger increases, and vice versa. It is for this reason that when the Upper Niger is unnavigable for steam-launches these boats can work on the Middle Niger.

The “Réné Caillé” had orders to ply only between Mopti and Kabara (the port of Timbuctu) after this journey, as the water in the Upper Niger would now be insufficient for her. The bed of the lake is covered with a kind of river oyster, which is said to be excellent eating, but I never tried it myself, although we dug up a number of them as we crossed the place. The skipper was anxious to make a port on the other shore of Dhebo that night if possible, but we had entered the lake so late that it was dark very quickly. Owing to the width of the lake it was hard by day, but impossible by night, to pick up landmarks by which to steer. The lake being shallow and sandbanks numerous, steering by the compass was not of much use, so after many bumps it was decided to anchor for the night and continue the journey at daybreak. A cold wind blows nearly all the year round on Dhebo, so that night I was glad of my blankets for the first time since quitting the Tembikunda Mountains.

In the morning I was up betimes to have a good view of the lake. The mist was rising and I could plainly discern a small village towards which we were steering, and farther ahead still was a wide silver streak flowing northwards out of the lake. The village was the fishing-place called Akka, where we were to take in some more wood, while the river was the Issa-Ber. At this exit of Lake Dhebo the Niger splits into two large streams, the Issa-Ber and the Bara-Issa, both of which are navigable, and which reunite at a town named El Wal-Oueji, about 120 miles further down-stream. The main branch, and the one we were to follow, was the Issa-Ber. This flows past the town of Niafounké, whilst the Bara-Issa flows past the town of Saraféré, where I was to make its acquaintance later, to the east of the former river. The journey to Timbuctu by either stream is of about equal length, but the route by the Issa-Ber is preferable as the channel is wider.

At Akka I hoped for some duck shooting while the launch was getting fuel. It was quite early when we anchored off the village, and I went ashore, gun in hand, accompanied by a couple of the crew. Behind the place were some likely-looking swamps and small lakes, whither we bent our steps. Having secured the services of a local rustic to show us the best spot, I hurried off in order to make the most of the short time at my disposal. The first place we approached was surrounded by a fringe of tall reeds, affording excellent cover for a gun. Near the opposite shore there were a number of various kinds of duck and teal enjoying the morning air and unaware of our presence. I instructed my followers to manœuvre round to the other side, while I cautiously crept into my position in the reeds on the near bank. The beaters soon began to approach the birds, amongst whom there were evident signs of unrest, as they started to chatter and flutter their wings in the water. Presently up rose a cloud of what looked like white-plumaged birds, which came flying rapidly towards me; as they circled over my head I had a right and left at them, bringing down one bird with the first barrel. They now whirled swiftly away towards the opposite shore, but before I had reloaded I saw some grey teal rapidly approaching. I had time for a barrel at them before they were out of range, when some more duck and then some geese hove in sight.

As soon as the birds returned towards the beaters they were driven away with loud cries and volleys of stones hurled in the air in their direction, whereupon they usually circled back towards me, evidently much disconcerted and unable to understand the unwonted report of my gun, with the occasional fall of one of their number. Altogether I had some capital sport, and was loath to hear the warning whistle of the launch, indicating that we must gather up the spoil and retrace our steps. Most of the birds were picked up, and I had collected a nice little bag. The white-plumaged duck which I had first shot proved to be a fine big bird, spur-winged, weighing eight or nine pounds, and although it looked quite white in flight the back was covered with rich black and dark green feathers.

The grey teal is a beautiful little bird, very swift of flight, and quite the most delicately flavoured of any waterfowl I shot on the Niger. This teal has a brown beak and light mottled grey breast darkening to partridge colour towards the tail. The wings are a beautiful pearl-grey, while the back is a darker shade of the same colour. The feet are dark grey. It is common on the swamps and lakes north of Dhebo. There was another grey teal of about the same size as the one described, but of a uniform mottled grey partridge hue. At first I thought it might be the female of the other grey teal, but I am inclined to think it was quite another species and was certainly much less common.

The goose I shot was a bird weighing about ten pounds, the wings and back were copper-coloured, the breast and under surface greyish white, while the legs were yellow and the beak red. The Bambaras called it “bio-lou.” This goose was very common north of Mopti; it is frequently seen feeding in the fields during the daytime. I cannot recommend it as a dish. The flesh is extremely tough. Even when well stewed it was almost too hard to be eatable; finally, I used to use it only for making soup. The largest game bird I saw on the Niger was a duck which must weigh at least fifteen pounds. It has a black beak, with a very distinctive red knob on its nose, just like a Barbary duck. The body and breast are black and white, while the wings are black, with a dark greenish tinge. This bird is also spur-winged. It was so large that I used to have a joint off it, treating a leg as one would a leg of mutton.

After leaving Mopti we encountered the Niger River winds. These winds blow almost permanently from the north-east, that is to say the general direction is up-stream. The result is that progress up-stream is frequently more rapid than when one travels with the current, for in the latter case the wind on this section is adverse. The wind accounted also for the waves on Lake Dhebo, making the motion so unpleasant that I could easily believe the skipper when he said people were often sea-sick here. One or two barges we passed under sail were spanking along at a great pace up-stream.

The day before our departure from Mopti a French gentleman had arrived from Djenné in a lighter. Owing to the strong head winds he could not make any progress in his craft, so arranged to be towed by us. He was a newspaper reporter, who had come out from Europe to study and write a report on certain native tribes of the Western Soudan. M. Malbranque had made some interesting investigations at Djenné, and was now en route to Timbuctu for a similar purpose. His barge was lashed alongside us, so that one could easily step from one boat to the other. The roof of his lighter made a pleasant spot upon which to rest and watch the passing scenery. We used to sit together and have many interesting discussions about travel. He was a man with a wide experience of French colonies, who had been in most parts of the world in connection with his literary labours. His river barge had done a long journey already. He had started from Koulikoro, some three weeks before me, but passing to Djenné from the town of Diafarabe, and then following the Bani River to Mopti.

The Issa-Ber is here nearly half a mile wide, and with such a fine depth of water that we steamed along merrily, having no longer any fear of sticking on a shoal. After leaving Lake Dhebo the aspect of the banks changed considerably. The vast pasturages of “borgou” on the banks gradually disappeared, giving way to a sandier soil, well wooded near the water’s edge. As we approached Niafounké the western shore grew more sandy, while the trees and scrub became more scattered. Our first view of the station was a glimpse of three rectangular mud-built houses, standing on rising ground not far from the river bank, with the Tricolour waving proudly in front of the centre one. The native town was tucked away in a dip of the ground behind the Residency, so was not visible from the river.

As we came alongside the little jetty two or three French officials advanced to meet us. I was introduced to the Commissioner, his assistant, and the doctor, and invited up to the Residency, where I was to put up. I had arranged with the skipper of the “Réné Caillé” to take my surplus baggage on to Timbuctu, as I intended to travel light, only taking a month’s supplies on my hunting expedition into the “Bend” of the Niger. I had spent a pleasant ten days on the little launch, and now said good-bye, for she was to start off that evening and would travel day and night till she reached Kabara. The river being now so much wider and deeper, navigation by night was easy. So the “Réné Caillé” steamed off, and we went up the hill to the station. My host gave me a most palatial room in his house, in which I felt lost after living in half a tiny cabin on the launch for the past few days.

That evening we were a pleasant party of seven. Besides the officials, two men from a sheep farm had come to dine, and I had to promise to pay their farm a visit before leaving the neighbourhood. The doctor and I made great friends. We had much in common, as he was almost as keen on sport as myself. He had a good deal of leisure time at Niafounké and had spent a considerable portion of it in shooting. We arranged for an expedition the following morning, as I had decided to pass two days here, giving me time to settle my best plan of campaign for the future.

The next day we were out before daylight, equipped only with light rifles, as we did not expect to see anything bigger than haartebeest, while we would probably only see gazelle.

We were evidently on the edge of the Sahara, for the soil was very sandy and vegetation of the stunted, desert variety. The trees were mostly mimosas, and as the sun rose the delicate fragrance of their golden blossoms was wafted towards us on the morning air. That morning we did not see much big game, in fact it was not till we were on the way home that we saw a small herd of red-fronted gazelle. We each had a rather long shot, and each of us missed. Small game, however, was abundant. Amongst the mimosa scrub we frequently saw hares darting about, while sand-grouse were very numerous. The latter were strangely difficult to see, as they crouched close to the ground, their speckled yellow colour harmonizing exactly with the sand in which they lay. They would sometimes get up almost at one’s feet, unperceived, until one heard their peculiar cry and the whir of their wings as they swiftly darted away.

Here I saw the doctor successfully practise the trick of approaching a greater bustard by stalking it in an ever-narrowing circle. The plan is an extremely simple and apparently effective one. The stalker, perceiving the bird at a distance of about 200 yards, proceeds to walk round it slowly in a circle of this radius. After completing a circle he gradually decreases the diameter, moving slowly the whole time, until he is within about fifty yards. At this point he cautiously goes into position with his rifle and has a shot. The bird does not seem to notice the gradual diminution of distance, and in this way seems to be fairly easy to approach. It is certain that to attempt to get within shot in open country is difficult in any other way.

On the homeward road we passed a small stream where guinea-fowl and bushfowl were plentiful; indeed, it seemed strange that in this narrow fringe of country almost bordering on the desert, there should be such a quantity of small game. We came across several thorn zaribas, used as sheep-pens by the natives in order to protect their animals from the lions which prowl around this region. The doctor informed me that no lions had been seen for some months past near Niafounké. However, these animals travel great distances in a short time and they might turn up again unexpectedly at any minute, so the native is wise to take precautions.

Niafounké is the last district under civil administration on the Middle Niger. The remainder of the country is administered by the military authorities. The Resident very kindly gave me one of his policemen to accompany me till I arrived at Timbuctu. The uniform of the policeman has a great moral effect on natives, so I was pleased at having this man to assist me in the villages through which I would pass. The last afternoon of my stay the doctor and I went on another shooting excursion. Our plan was to ride out to a place where we would probably get some wart-hog and gazelle, then in the evening we were to go on to Gauba, where the sheep farm was, and where we intended to spend the night with the two men I had met at dinner the previous day.

We had a pleasant ride, but fortune seemed to have deserted us much as she had done the day before. My friend had two difficult shots at a gazelle, but was unsuccessful; while I only saw one wart-hog when it was too dark to shoot.

The sheep farm is almost on the Niger banks. It is purely experimental, being started by Government to try to improve the breed of the local sheep. The native sheep of the Western Soudan is not a bad little animal, and gives a fair crop of wool. The wool is, however, rather coarse, and it was thought that the quality could be considerably improved by obtaining a better standard of sheep in the country. Experiments were first tried by breeding from specially selected animals belonging to the country, but results were not very encouraging. It was then decided to import from Algeria a certain number of rams for breeding with the native sheep.

Before dinner we paid a visit to the sheep-pen. One of our party was a veterinary officer, who had just arrived to investigate some sickness which had recently broken out among the animals. There were forty of these Algerian rams, but unfortunately the sickness referred to had spread to an alarming extent amongst them, and when I saw them they were in poor condition. Shearing had been taking place that day, some very fair samples of wool being shown me. In spite of their haggard appearance the Algerian rams were decidedly superior to the West African sheep, the latter looking surprisingly small and puny in comparison. The enclosure in which the sheep were penned was a mud wall six feet high, while the only entrance was closed by a stout wooden door heavily barred. I was struck by the thickness of the door and asked the reason for such precautions. I was told that leopards were common in that district, so it was advisable to secure the sheep against a possible raid. Strange to relate, that very night we were to have an illustration of the presence of a leopard!

The natives of this part of the Niger keep big flocks of sheep, the price of one of these animals being ridiculously small. A big sheep can be bought for 1 franc 50 cts., and the mutton is of quite good quality. Any science in breeding is, however, totally unknown to these people, hence the breed is tending to deteriorate. During the cool season the sheep have plenty of pasturage, but towards the end of the hot season food is scarce and poor. The French are anxious to develop their wool trade, hence their efforts to improve the quality of the wool which is produced in the Western Soudan. For such articles as rough carpets, blankets, etc., the existing wool is much used in Europe, but a finer quality is required if the trade is to be really remunerative.

A white blanket is made from the wool of the Soudan sheep, and is embroidered with red or green threads. This blanket, although rough, is a most serviceable article on the cold nights so frequently experienced in this part of the country. The natives use them as a covering for themselves by day, and as a bed-wrap at night. This was the only article manufactured by these people with their own wool.

Some time after we had retired to bed I was suddenly aroused by hearing loud exclamations of alarm proceeding from the native quarter close by. I rushed out with my rifle in hand and was met by my hosts, also in night attire, the veterinary officer being armed like myself. A scared negro appeared at this juncture with the news that a leopard had come into the sheep-pen, having jumped over the wall, and had carried off a sheep. The alarm had been raised by hearing a commotion in the pen, and the leopard was actually seen by one man bounding over the wall with his prey. The vet and I immediately started off on the frail hope of coming up with the animal, but as there was no moon the tracks had to be followed by a lamp. This tedious process led us eventually to some bush, in which the tracks were completely lost. The following morning the animal’s pug marks were distinctly visible near the house in which we had slept. It appeared to have circled round the place several times before it had made its raid on the sheep. After this accident the wall of the sheep-pen was raised considerably, the top being covered with a few strands of barbed wire.

A mile from Gauba is the Government ostrich farm. The farm is managed by a European—who was unfortunately absent when I was there—and contains about forty birds. These have been caught young by natives and are kept with a view to breeding. The ostriches give two crops of feathers annually, in January and June. At present the farm is only in an experimental state, but it is hoped in time to produce a large quantity of feathers from the place. The manager was then on a tour down the Niger in order to try to find a more suitable site for the farm. It must be near the desert, for ostriches are more easily obtained from natives there; also, it is found that the desert air is better suited to the birds, which produce finer feathers if kept in their natural atmosphere. From Niafounké down-stream, and upon both banks of the river, ostriches are found. Sandy country is essential to them, hence in the parts where there are widely irrigated areas between the rivers Issa-Ber and Bara-Issa, the birds are not met with. Although ostriches are fairly numerous in certain parts of the country, it cannot be said that they are at all common. They are extremely shy birds, thus being most difficult to approach. Their eyesight is wonderfully keen. They will perceive you when you are still 600 yards off, and it requires great patience and energy to successfully stalk them within practicable rifle range. Their commanding height gives them a great advantage when pursued by man, and the speed with which their long legs can cover the ground is astonishing. Ostriches will easily outstrip a galloping horse, consequently the only way to approach them is by wile, although I have been told that sometimes they can be worn down by persistent pursuit on horseback.

Of desert vegetation they seem to prefer a plant somewhat resembling a pumpkin, which creeps on the ground. On this they are fed chiefly at the ostrich farm, but, of course, an ostrich will eat almost anything, and I fancy their diet is not a matter needing much care and forethought. It is a curious fact that ostrich feathers are nearly as expensive in the French Soudan as they are in England. On several occasions I bought some, but they were so high in price as really hardly to be worth buying. The truth is that ostrich hunting in the Western Soudan is in such an undeveloped state that the natives who have feathers for sale ask fancy prices, and usually get them.

The ostrich farm near Niafounké is not well placed and the situation is certain soon to be changed.

My plans were now to try for lion along the banks of the Niger, near a place called Sébi, and afterwards to make for Saraere, where there was also the possibility of lion, and finally to march to Lake Bambara Maaundé, a fine hunting locality for elephant and several varieties of big game. Most of the inhabitants here are Fulanis, and their occupation is tending big herds of cattle. The country is thinly populated, and thus is well suited for game. A horse was essential for shooting, but I was unable to buy one, so had to be content for the present with hiring daily from village to village—a troublesome and unsatisfactory proceeding.

CHAPTER XV

Game on the Issa-Ber — Hiring a canoe — A leaky craft — Borgou grass — Fish tanks — Sebi — Tracks of lions — Good wildfowl shooting — Tortures of a native saddle — Mamadu’s horsemanship — A flat country — Fulani villages — Saraféré — Desert winds — Niger canoes — Hardy hunters — Ancient fire-arms — Lion shooting — The Fulanis.

ON the 13th of March I left Gauba. For the first few miles our way lay through a swampy country, consisting of creeks and backwaters of the Niger, or to be more accurate, of the Issa-Ber. Hundreds of waterfowl of all descriptions were preening their feathers in the morning sun, sitting in groups on the little islands in the middle of the streams or floating lazily near the banks, watching us with suspicious looks as we approached. Numerous game tracks led down to the water’s edge, the footprints showing clearly in the soft soil. Waterbuck and kob appeared to frequent these haunts in the early morning, while wart-hog were very common. Allowing my carriers to go on, I was able to secure some good specimens without proceeding far into the bush on the higher ground to the west of our road.

On arriving at the village of Sibo I was told that further progress by road was impossible, as the floods had been high that year and the track was still under water. The only course to adopt was to go by canoe. Hiring a canoe or any business transaction is always a lengthy proceeding where the West African native is concerned. The chief of the place had first to be summoned, and, of course, was not to be found for some time. The virtue of patience is, indeed, a golden one to possess in this land. The native’s methods are invariably dilatory since time has no value for him. But it is easy to preach patience and a great deal harder to practise it when one is in a hurry to get things done. In this case I was kept waiting a couple of hours before the chief arrived. The policeman provided by the Commissioner at Niafounké had unfortunately not yet reached me, but was to do so during the course of that morning. When the chief had arrived a considerable discussion took place between his insubordinate followers as to which one should supply the craft, until I cut matters short by securing the best canoe I could find and telling the chief I would send him back to Niafounké with a message to the Commissioner unless the paddlers were forthcoming within half an hour. Matters were at length settled, and my few belongings quickly stowed on board.

Mamadu had secured a large earthenware pot, a very necessary article for culinary purposes in a wooden canoe, as the fire had to be lighted in this receptacle, and we were just shoving-off when the policeman cantered up on his steed. As it was not possible to take this beast on the canoe it had to be left at the village.

The canoe was about twenty feet long, leaked considerably and had no awning, so I looked forward to a hot and uncomfortable journey. My expectations were fully realized. In spite of two men being constantly on duty to bale out, we made so much water that at one time I feared we would have to run ashore and patch her up before the voyage could be continued. The sun, too, was very trying that day. It poured its rays mercilessly upon our heads until at last I was driven to take refuge, in a rather ignominious fashion, by lying at full length on my back, and placing my camp-table across two seats I was able to get a little welcome shade underneath it. The chief discomfort of my position was due to the water at the bottom of the boat, so that I was immersed in a perpetual bath.

We were now in the Issa-Ber. The banks were sandy, and scrub was scanty and stunted. The river is nearly a mile wide in many places, and frequently too deep for poling to be effective. These canoes are manipulated in two ways, either by paddles or poles. The canoemen are expert at both these methods, but, owing to the strong wind which is so prevalent, it is often hard work to make much progress with paddles. The poles are merely long bamboos or palm stalks, and with these the craft can be propelled in the shallower water near the banks. When poling, we constantly found further progress barred by thick masses of “borgou” grass. This grass has its roots often twelve or fifteen feet deep in the water; it grows so densely that it makes a thick matting from the surface of the water downwards, through which it is extremely difficult to penetrate. The appearance is somewhat similar to “sudd,” found on other rivers in the tropics; and in many of the streams where navigation is not frequent the whole channel is blocked, so that the only successful means of dealing with it would appear to be to have a small steamer fitted with a cutting apparatus to hew a channel for itself as it moves through the water.

My servant could not speak Fulani or Sonrhai, the two languages now required, so I found the policeman doubly useful; indeed, without him it would have been hard to get anything done.

In several places we saw fish tanks, made on the edge of the river banks, where the “borgou” was clearer or had been cut away by the natives. Fish were first caught in traps or nets and then stored in the tank alive. The riverside people are great consumers of dried fish, live ones being taken out of the tanks as requirements dictated, to be dried for local consumption or for trade at neighbouring inland markets. At the time these fish were being dried on the river banks the stench proceeding from them was most unpleasant, making it necessary to give the shore a wide berth.

My recollections of Sébi are that it was one of the hottest and dirtiest villages of the Western Soudan. I camped on the eastern side of the town, but had occasion to enter it several times during my stay in the place. The chief provided me with two hunters, who could give me no immediate information of lion. There was no doubt, however, that I was as likely to see them here as anywhere, for the record of cows and sheep killed in this locality by “the king of beasts” was far higher than anywhere else in the “Bend.” A week before my arrival there had been a kill, and it was quite likely that lion would soon revisit this happy hunting-ground. The local herdsmen were told to send me immediate news of any signs of the presence of lion which might be observed near their flocks; one hunter was sent to seek for fresh tracks near the river, south of the town, while I and the other hunter went off next morning to a likely haunt to the north.

Three days brought no information of lion in the vicinity, but that they had recently been there was certain, for I came across tracks, varying from a week to a fortnight in age, of three different animals within ten miles of the town. I have not the slightest doubt that had I not been so pressed for time, and been able to prolong my stay for a week or two, I would have been certain to get at least one. Knowing, however, that I should probably get a chance soon, for all the country in the “Bend” is fairly plentiful in lion, I made preparations for my departure to Saraféré. My stay at Sébi had not been unproductive, as I had shot a nice kob and a red-fronted gazelle, which in size was within an eighth of an inch of the record, besides several smaller heads of different varieties.

At Sébi there was quite the best duck, geese and teal shooting I found anywhere on the Niger. At the back of the town there were several large ponds and marshy rivulets in which swarms of birds were always to be seen, while at night, about sunset, the waterfowl could be shot flighting between the Niger and these places. Each evening I went out with my shot-gun, and had some capital sport on every occasion. Just when the light was getting dim the noise of the whir of many wings would be heard in the air, when, on looking up, a cloud of dusky objects might be seen approaching phantom-like in the sky. The first shot would cause them to swerve, passing away out of shot, but behind were line upon line of serried ranks, all directing their flight towards the same objective, unaware of the danger below them, until they heard the report of a gun and, perhaps, saw one of their number fall to the ground. Quite apart from lion or other big game, Sébi was decidedly worth a visit for the sport of its wildfowl shooting.

From Sébi I was told that my shortest way was by canoe, but I did not place much confidence in my information, for the water in the small creeks, by which I must travel, was subsiding so rapidly that it seemed highly probable I should find myself stranded before I had gone very far on my journey. Besides, I was anxious to see more of the country, and this could best be done on horseback. I had brought no such luxury as an English saddle and bridle on my expedition, so I had to get accustomed to the native horse equipment. To anyone who wishes to try it I say most advisedly, “Don’t.” Of course, one can get used to anything, but the tortures suffered in accustoming oneself to a native saddle in the Western Soudan are such that the game is decidedly not worth the candle. By perseverance, and with the loss of a good deal of temper, I did get used to the thing eventually, only, many was the time I groaned at the thought of another day in that saddle and prayed even for the roughest of English-made saddles.

The native saddle is made entirely of wood; even if the wood were well-planed and with a level surface it would be endurable, but the wood is roughly hewn and appears to be fashioned in a series of little hills and dales, which are most fiendish contrivances for a person only possessed of normal skin. To add to the discomfort the saddle is seldom made out of one piece of wood, but the seat consists of two or three planks which frequently do not fit over-well against each other. A blanket thrown across it can do something to alleviate one’s miseries, but at the best it is a poor remedy, and a very hot one.

Mamadu was very anxious to ride, so I let him hire a horse too. His horsemanship was very inferior, however, and after several differences of opinion between himself and his mount, ending invariably in his discomfiture, he came to the conclusion that he preferred walking. Mamadu certainly did cut a strange figure on a horse, his appearance causing much merriment to the whole party. At this time he had, from somewhere or other, unearthed a long, black coat, which had seen better days and was now very threadbare. This garment covered his white coat, coming half-way down his white baggy trousers as well. His head was adorned by a native sun-hat, a conical affair, gaily decorated with coloured leather ribbons. On horseback his appearance was even more ludicrous than it was on foot, and when he used to prepare to mount he was greeted with loud yells of derision from the carriers, who considered him fair game for a jest. Poor Mamadu, his troubles were great in those days, and I am afraid I did not feel as much sympathy for him as I perhaps should have done.

I used to ride on with the policeman in the morning, ahead of the carriers, the policeman carrying my shot-gun, while I had my rifle slung over my shoulder. In this way one could get a good deal of sport on the road. On observing any game I would dismount, leaving my horse with the policeman, and was then free to stalk at my leisure. The country was very open, with no other trees than stunted dum palms, and sandy soil. For miles upon miles it was a flat plain, watered with numerous shallow, slowly flowing streams, which fertilized the country between the rivers Issa-ber and Bara-Issa, and connected those two main waterways.

The track was ill-defined, so that I found it necessary to take a guide from village to village. Cattle-tracks crossed and recrossed our path in every direction, in many cases completely obliterating all signs of the way we were endeavouring to follow. Moreover, wide detours had constantly to be made to avoid inundations, of which only the nearest villages were aware. These inundations were very deceptive. Some were fordable, but others had a treacherous quagmire under the surface of the water, from which it would be no easy matter to extricate oneself. On approaching these inundated areas we would disturb big flocks of teal, which had been hidden in the rushes, and now circled high over our heads waiting for our departure to settle down once more in their accustomed haunts.

The villages were all Fulani. These people, although in many ways superior to the other inhabitants of the Western Soudan, live in far inferior houses. When approaching a place a glance will be sufficient to tell if it is inhabited by Fulanis. Their huts are most primitive and flimsy affairs. They are built of plaited straw, which is the stalk of the rice or millet plant. There is only one layer of this straw, so that sun or rain can penetrate with ease.

These huts are very low, there being only just room for a man to stand upright in the centre. At one end is a couch, made of a few layers of sticks and raised two feet off the ground. The couch is generally covered with grass mats and tanned sheepskins. The entrance is by an opening barely three feet high, while, if the ground is rough, it is usually covered with more grass mats. Fulani villages are very dirty. The people live with their cattle around them. In the daytime the young calves are to be seen tied up to a stake at the front door, to prevent their following their mothers, which are sent out to graze with the rest of the herd. At sunset the whole troop return, when the village resounds with their lowing and bellowing. When green fodder is dried up the cattle are fed on the same straw of which the huts are made.

In all this country supplies are wonderfully plentiful and cheap. Fowls can be bought for 15 cts.; eggs cost 10 cts. for four; milk is about a halfpenny a quart; and a bullock can be bought for 20 francs. For this reason living is as inexpensive as anywhere in the world, I should think, so long as the traveller lives on local produce. Freight from the coast is so high, however, that European stores are most expensive. Between Niafounké and Timbuctu the French reckon that a loaf of bread, baked with French flour, costs them 1 franc 50 cts. The French being great eaters of bread grumble greatly at the cost of flour in those parts.

Five miles from Saraféré we had to cross a wide swamp by canoe. On the other side of this water was a fair road, coming from the west; this was the road from Niafounké to Saraféré, and this we now followed till the town was reached.

Saraféré lies on the opposite shore of the River Bara-Issa, which here is a couple of hundred yards wide. The river twists and winds around the town in a curious manner, describing a curve resembling the letter “W.” As the crow flies the distance between the outer bends of the “W” cannot be more than a couple of hundred yards, but by the river it must be fully five miles. The town itself consists of a strange collection of mud-built houses, of rather Moorish appearance. The streets are quaint, narrow alleys, winding in an aimless fashion through the place. All the houses have flat roofs, upon which the better-class citizens take the evening air.

Saraféré is called the Sister of Timbuctu, owing to the similarity existing between the two towns. The inhabitants are mostly Sonrhais, but the place is divided into quarters for Arabs, Fulanis, Bambaras, Bosos and Tuaregs, all of which races are fairly well represented. Besides all these permanent residents there is a floating population of traders from all parts of Western Soudan. Mossis from the south bring native cloths and kola nuts, chiefly the product of the big market of Wagadugu. Moors and Tuaregs bring salt and gum from the desert regions in the north. Sonrhais from Djenné take spice and native peppers to Saraféré market, while Hausas from Kano, to the east, bring beads, sham pearls and Kano leather wares. This mixture of different races, talking different languages, makes Saraféré market-place an interesting scene to the European visitor.

The Resident’s house and those of the two French merchants face the river, occupying a large space in front of the town. Here one gets a foretaste of the desert winds. Clouds of sand envelop the town during the months of March, April and May, making existence anything but pleasant while the wind is blowing. The sand permeates every nook and cranny of a house. The only thing to do is to shut all doors and windows, enduring the heat in preference to being buried in sand. The soil on the immediate banks of the river is capable of producing good rice and millet, but away from the water it is poor and desert-like. Long stretches of sand, with only here and there a few dried-up shrubs or tufts of coarse grass, characterize this rather forbidding-looking land.

The Sahara has, indeed, invaded the right bank of the Niger, not content with the havoc it has wrought along the left bank of the river. Much of the country in the “Bend” bids fair to develop into desert in the course of time unless these terrible winds can be checked. Nature opposes no obstacle to them, as the land is so flat, almost uninterruptedly from the southern slopes of the Atlas Mountains across the whole of this portion of Northern Africa. But I am rather digressing, for that part of my story belongs really to the description of the country near Timbuctu and the other side of the Niger.

There are two kinds of canoes on the Niger, the “Djenné” and the “Niger” canoe. While I was at Saraféré I had ample opportunity for watching the building of the latter kind of craft. The whole material for the canoe is produced from the dum palm. It is interesting to observe the uses the different portions of that tree can be put to in the manufacture of a canoe. As the dum palm is practically the only tree found in the country it is fortunate for the natives that it has so many varied uses.

A canoe made of this palm cannot be constructed out of one piece, as a dug-out is hewn from a single tree trunk. This is not possible, because the trunk of the dum palm is of small diameter, and several trees must be utilized to make a single canoe. Most canoes are made of six separate portions of the wood, sewn together, but of course, the number of pieces required varies with the size of the craft to be built. The first operation is roughly to hew the different parts of the frame into the required shape. The tools used are an instrument resembling a chisel and an iron-headed hammer. These tools are of native make, forged roughly by a native blacksmith, so hardly the most suitable for the work they are required to perform. However, ever, the result is not by any means bad, doing great credit to the skill of the workmen. When the portions of the body have been shaped, they are placed together, being kept in position by logs of wood propped against them. The next operation is to sew these portions together. Holes are punched with a sharp-pointed instrument through the pieces near their edges, the local rope being used to bind the parts together by threading it through these holes.

The local rope is made out of strips of the stalk of the palm leaf. These strips are plaited together until they form a kind of withy, which is exceedingly strong and durable. The holes in the frame are stopped up by taking as many turns of rope as possible through them, but of necessity there is plenty of space left between the stitches for water to leak through.

The next item is to stop these holes more effectively, for it would be impossible to remain long in the water in a canoe which leaked so badly as the unfinished article now would do. For this purpose the leaves themselves of the palm trees are utilized. These leaves are very fibrous in texture. This fibre is pounded up until it becomes a stringy, yellowish mass, quite soft and easily manipulated. Small bits of this stuff are poked into all existing crevices until no gaps are discernible. It only now remains to smooth off the rough surfaces of the canoe, and to put in seats, etc. Even the best canoes leak a great deal, but a constant supply of the fibre referred to is kept on board for the purpose of stopping the more serious leaks, and a man is frequently engaged in baling out. These canoes rarely last more than one year, but building is so simple and all materials so near to hand that there is no great difficulty in building new ones.

The “Djenné” canoe is more elegantly shaped and much better finished. There is no mistaking a “Djenné” canoe when seen on the river. In actual construction the only difference is that the Djenné people use wooden pegs to connect the separate parts of the body together instead of sewing them. Canoes sixty feet long are frequently seen on the Niger. They usually belong to a native trader, or to a rich chief. They invariably are covered over with native mats, forming an awning as a shelter from the weather. The native canoe is of very shallow draught. I doubt if it draws more than three inches. All the river people are expert paddlers and polers. They will, if necessary, travel day and night without more than three hours’ halt in the twenty-four, and will keep this up for five or six days continuously. Canoes trade for long distances on the Niger. They frequently ply between Timbuctu and Koulikoro, a distance of nearly 600 miles. The Saraféré canoes usually trade only with Timbuctu to the north, or Djenné to the south. While I was at Saraféré several canoes came from Djenné bringing traders with the produce of their country. The water in the river towards Timbuctu happened to be rather low at the time I was at Saraféré, so only small canoes were trading between the two towns.