I remained the next day in Iferouan collecting a few specimens of doves, inhabiting the palm trees, which proved to be Streptopelia turtur hoggara, a rare and beautiful soft-coloured richly mottled dove which I found in no other locality in Aïr. This was the first and only good find during my northern journey, throughout which birds remained remarkably scarce. I think, after all, birds like the society of mankind; at any rate, desolate, man-forsaken northern Aïr held very few birds indeed in comparison with inhabited districts in the south. Mankind cultivate seed crops, keep herds of cattle, throw out debris, live where water is to be found, and have a score or more habits, each of which unconsciously, in some way, is of benefit to one or other of the feathered tribe.

I did not intend to return to Timia by the route I had come, but to journey south-west to Aguellal, the most western mountain range in Aïr of any importance, and thence cut back eastward by way of the ancient town of Assodé.

Before setting out, an unexpected difficulty cropped up in that, wilfully or truthfully, Homa, the native who had been guide to Iferouan, declared that he did not know the way to Aguellal. I had made my plans quite clear before leaving Timia, and was considerably annoyed to find that I had been misled as to the ability of the guide. I called the goumiers, and asked each one if he knew the country, but received a negative reply from all, which, so far as I could judge, was true, although by this time I knew something of Tuareg shortcomings, and was aware that the whole business might be a ruse to put me off returning by a circuitous and longer route. In any case, I nipped any indecision, which they may have wished to encourage, in the bud, by declaring emphatically that I had a good Takarda (map), and would lead the way to Aguellal, at the same time knowing the men would have to accompany me unless they wished to greatly displease their officer at Agades.

My map showed a track from Iferouan to Aguellal, and the evening before starting I sent the chief goumier and Homa out to search for it west of the village. They came back at dark with the encouraging news that they had found a track out on the stony plain leading westward.

Hence at daybreak on 15th June we set out from Iferouan in the direction of Aguellal. The track soon proved to be very vague, so that I had to refer frequently to map and compass before Aguellal mountain range loomed in sight, a procedure which astonished and impressed the natives, who had for days past been vastly interested in the magic sheet of paper which told me so much about a land which they were aware I had never seen before. From time to time we picked up the old track, usually on stony ground where sand had not drifted, and thus reassured we kept on a true course.

The country between Iferouan and Aguellal is in general aspect plain-like and expansive and very barren. Low rugged hills lie west and south of Iferouan, in country of alternating stretches of light gravel and sand in slight hollows and valleys, and darker gravel and rock on the rounded ridges and higher lands. When more than midway on our journey, we crossed an extensive sandy plain on its western margin, and there the old track was completely obliterated by weather and drifting sand, and I noticed the leading camel-man was following, at times, the small particles of bleached camel-litter of animals that had long ago passed this way—in the end, even those slight signs, that would escape unpractised eyes, were lost.

No trees were seen to-day, except an occasional low weed-like, ill-nourished bush and a few scattered acacias at our night camp, which was chosen in the Aniogaran valley bed (altitude, 2,200 ft.), at which time we were in full view of the northern slopes of rugged Aguellal.

Dr. Barth, on entering the Aïr mountains from the north in 1850, described the approach to Aguellal as “a picturesque wilderness,” where “majestic mountains and detached peaks towered over the landscape.”

Unlike other localities throughout to-day’s journey, there was no sign of recent rainfall, and the land lay terribly parched, and altogether the most drear and barren area we had entered since leaving Timia.

The undulating fairly level type of country was of the type favoured by Dorcas Gazelles, and a number of them were seen to-day, and an animal shot for food.

I am now living principally on buck-meat and dried dates bought in Timia, for my European stores, which I have had to draw on heavily ever since leaving the inhabited regions of Damergou, are almost finished. The articles I miss most of all, and which ran out about a month ago, are sugar and tobacco; especially the latter, which can be a wonderful solace when the palate grows listless on a constant diet of freshly killed meat.

Resuming the journey on the following day, we changed our course westward and then southward, to swing round the north-west spur of the Aguellal range, over very rough foothills, through which an old mountain track led us in toward Aguellal village, which lay hidden round the corner of the spur, until we came suddenly in sight of it at close range.

After collecting specimens for some little time in the pleasant neighbourhood of Timia, I set out to return to my base camp on Baguezan, not by the route I had come, but round by the east side of the mountain, via Tebernit valley, and thereafter along the southern base until we should come to the pass above Tokede which I had originally climbed. There is no pass in the northern or eastern mountain-sides of Baguezan.

The journey by this route occupied four days, as against two and a half days by the more direct route on the western side by which I had travelled outward to Timia. But, in general, the east side of Baguezan is easier to travel along with camels than the rugged western side, for there it is possible to skirt the margin of the stony foothills that lie out from the base and travel along the edge of the sand or over fairly level gravel-covered ground.

The eastern aspect of Baguezan Mountains differs from that of the west in that it presents a more abrupt mountain face and has less bulwark of rugged foothills than in the west, where the whole country below the plateau is broken and mountainous; while out beyond the foothill margin on the east side, east of the shallow Tebernit valley, the land stretches away in a flat-looking plain, which contains very few detached hills, and, in places, bears a fair growth of open acacia bush.

Leaving Tebernit valley and advancing round the south-east corner of Baguezan the Ouna and Nabaro rivers are crossed: wide dry stream-beds rising from deep crevices in the mountain-side. There are some particularly large acacias growing on the banks of the Ouna river, while there is a deserted village on the south bank of the stream. Altitude, a short distance north of Ouna river, 3,300 ft.

So completely deserted is Ouna village and the whole territory, that I see, as I have seen elsewhere, confident gazelles resting in the street spaces, while their footprints mark the sand even to the very doors of the dwellings.

Dorcas Gazelles are fairly plentiful in the country east of Baguezan, and there are also a few Dama Gazelles, while there are Wild Sheep on the mountain faces; but, so far as the latter are concerned, the rugged western side of the mountain is much the better hunting-ground.

The flatness of the country east of Baguezan continues round into the south-east for a long way, and it is not until Adekakit river is reached that the aspect changes and one begins to enter rugged foothills.

Adekakit river, which rises in a remarkably deep ravine on the mountain face, is a broad river-bed, with fairly fertile banks, which support some dum palms, and the south side of the mountain appears to be the only locality around Baguezan base where those trees grow.

By the time Teouar is reached, one has entered a land of mountain foothill environment and encounters many scenes of rugged beauty. Particularly fine in that respect is the journey up the Tessouma river-bed from Teouar to Tokede. The stream-bed is here very broad, and well garbed with trees on either bank, dum palm, a few date palms, acacia and “Abisgee” bush, while its course is channelled, latterly in a deep twisting rock-banked gorge, through a land of mountains, some of which have such grotesque shapes and towering heights that they command acute admiration and attention.

Teouar village (altitude, 3,050 ft.) stands on high stony ground on the east bank of the river. It is a deserted village of stone huts. Across the river there are some date palms, and here we found two natives cultivating the ground beneath the palms in spite of their constant fear of robbers. So great is their dread, that at our approach to Teouar we descried two figures fleeing into the hills until I sent the goumiers in chase of them, and to hail them that we were friends. One was armed with a huge heavy long-barrelled rifle, long out of date, while the other had only a hand-spear.

I have already described the ascent from Tokede to Baguezan plateau, so that the final stage of my journey back into Baguezan need not here be dwelt on.

It was early in July when I re-entered Baguezan, and I was astonished and delighted at the change which, owing to considerable rain showers in June, had taken place during my absence. Where all had been bleak and overshadowed with the melancholy grey of bare rocky hills, there are now valleys bearing green-leafed trees and green grass, while even among the rocks there is a faint tint of greenness where thin grass or small plant or tiny bush has precarious lodgment. But I note no bright display of flowers, which is because the few flowering bushes and plants have blooms that are small and modest, and are hidden at any distance by the fullness of growth of green leaf and grass blade. Butterflies, hitherto remarkably scarce, are now numerous on Baguezan on account of the prevailing spring-like conditions, but they are not of great variety of kind, nor brilliantly coloured, nor large of size, being chiefly of desert forms.

The few days I remained on Baguezan were occupied, when not collecting, in packing away boxes of specimens in readiness to travel, and in mending my bush-clothes which were now in a sad state of raggedness.

On 4th July I left Baguezan mountains and set out to Agades, having, by camel courier, received a request to come in to meet the commandant of the Territoire Militaire du Niger, who was to arrive at Agades from Zinder in a few days in the course of a round of inspection of outlying posts.

I journeyed back to Agades by the way I had come, and spent three very enjoyable days at the Fort in the society of fellow Europeans—a great treat when one has been long alone except for native following.

In connection with the last remark, being alone on work of this kind has, I have concluded, one advantage, which may be set against its harshness in denying companionship; and that is the rare opportunity which it gives to undistracted study. When a man in ordinary business life wishes to pursue deep study, it is common habit to select a quiet room where he may sit alone in undisturbed contemplation of his subject. And a similar privacy has, I believe, its advantages to the man out on the trail: alone, he is better equipped to give undivided attention to study, so long as the period of research is not too protracted and the strain of loneliness not unbearable to the point of depression. But besides this advantage to study, besides the fate which circumstances may impose, I would be one of the first to say to anyone contemplating a journey beyond civilised frontiers: “Never go without a well-tried comrade—if you can help it.”

But to return to my narrative. On the way in to Agades I experienced a rain-storm, which illustrates how local such occurrences often are. My caravan was five miles north-east of Agades on the evening of 7th July, when we saw black threatening clouds rolling in the distance apparently over Agades, and, judging it prudent not to run into the storm, we camped at Azzal for the night. At Azzal we experienced strong wind and a very light shower, but on entering Agades next morning we learned that on the previous evening a regular tornado had descended upon the place (which wrecked the wireless plant) and torrential rains had fallen. The after result will be that at Agades (without rain until this storm) the vegetation will now rapidly grow fresh and green, while Azzal and the other places unwatered will remain dormant. Hence at this season parts of Aïr may be green, like Baguezan and localities further north, and others parched and leafless.

It was during this journey to Agades that some particularly fine deceptive mirages were seen. At times lakes of blue water bordered with marsh would be apparent away in the distance, always, of course, to fade out long before the traveller could draw near to the alluring picture. The whole illusion is perfectly clear to the healthy traveller, but what a thing of torture such picture could be to any unfortunate man in search of water in the barren land—lakes lying before our eyes, but for ever receding out of agonised reach.

After my brief visit to Agades, which had interrupted previous plans, I turned again northward, with the purpose of travelling to Aouderas, where I had originally intended to go direct from Baguezan.

On the way north I camped at Azzal (altitude, 1,825 ft.) for a week to make some collections, and, in particular, to capture some specimens of the beautiful Bee-eater, Merops albicollis albicollis, which up to that time I had not seen elsewhere.

It was here, at the settlement on the banks of the Azzal river, which contains many of the natives evacuated from northern Aïr, that I found the Chief of Iferouan with a number of his tribe about him. His people had been accustomed to grow wheat at Iferouan, and it was interesting to note that they had commenced, with considerable success, to establish the same crop cultivation at Azzal, with the aid of deep wells and primitive irrigation. But the Chief declared that he and his people longed to be free to return to Iferouan— “Our hearts are there, not in Azzal.” A sentiment which recalled the words of the Chief of Baguezan in decrying the Sahara south of Aïr as of no attraction to his people: “There are no mountains there, and how could we live without them!”

The Chief of Iferouan had been across Africa on the old pilgrim route, which he described to me as follows: From the country of the Tuaregs in the neighbourhood of Timbuktu the route crosses Upper Senegal to Zinder on the Niger river, thence it skirts the northern borders of Sokoto (Nigeria), and then strikes north-east to Agades, and continues through Aïr via Aouderas, Aguellal, and Iferouan (or alternatively via Assodé), thereafter continuing away northward to Tripoli on the seaboard of the Mediterranean, touching on the way the important points of Ghat, Rhadames, and Djebel. So far as this ancient pilgrim route concerns Aïr, the old caravan roads are still to be seen with undiminished clearness when they pass over stony ground where no sand accumulates and not a blade of vegetation has root. At such places one may see ten to fifteen single foot-wide paths running parallel to each other camel-width apart, light-coloured clearly defined lines where the dark gravel surface of the natural ground has been brushed aside or powdered down by passage of countless feet. When those old roads lead off such stony ground through rocks between hills or over ridges, where the way is barred with rocks and boulders, the road changes always to a narrow much-worn single defile, which turns and twists where passage for camels has been found possible, or, by labour of hands, made possible. Again, when those old roads enter and continue along the loose sandy bed of a dry river, there remains no sign of track whatever, as all marks have been long washed away by wind and flood.

Accompanied by ten goumiers, I left Azzal on the 19th July en route to Aouderas, three days’ journey north. At Dabaga, on the Azzal river, we branched off the route to Baguezan, and headed due north until we cut into the Tilisdak river, when we turned eastward until Aouderas was reached. I will not enter upon detailed description of the journey to Aouderas, for the barren country was of the same rugged, stony, hill-dotted nature as that described south of Baguezan. The altitude at Dabaga registered 2,100 ft., at Germat, on the Tilisdak river, 2,350 ft., and at Aouderas, 2,700 ft., so that (as experienced on the journey to Baguezan) a decided ascent takes place between Agades (1,710 ft.) and the base of the most southern mountain ranges, once the sand plains are left behind and the true rock region of Aïr entered.

Fortunately it was not a very long journey to Aouderas, for the climate at this time was particularly trying, as it was the season preceding the Rains, which period, and the period just after the Rains, are the most unhealthy for European or native, and much sickness (principally malaria) then prevails. At these times many of the days are unpleasantly hot and enervating—days that from sunrise to sunset are breathless and sultry and heavily oppressive. While, as to the intensity of the heat, an afternoon temperature on 20th July registered 102° Fahr. in the shade.

The little village of Aouderas is tucked away in an open glen in the foothills of Aouderas mountains, and is surrounded on all sides by rugged hills and mountainous landscape. The Aouderas river runs through the glen, and the village is built upon its banks. In places where there are small pockets of level ground between the river-bank and the rising hill-side, there are a goodly number of date palms growing in the gardens of grain cultivated beneath their shade, which makes very attractive scenes after the barren greyness of the land to the south.

I was warmly received by the Chief of Aouderas and his tribe, who had news that I was coming, and, to my surprise, I found, as on no other like occasion, that a hut had already been built for me on a nicely cleared space of ground. I find that all Aïr natives know of “the Hunting White Man” now, and each new place that I visit, where there are natives, my welcome increases in cordiality and there is less suspicion of the stranger.

On the day I entered Aouderas there was a caravan of natives, with camels and donkeys, camped there, who, with a posse of goumiers, were, in obedience to orders from Agades, on their way north to Iferouan to gather dates, which are now ripening. Some of those natives openly declared that they were afraid of the journey, and related to me the following story: “Last year, at this season, a party went north on the same errand, and, in the night, when camped at Iberkom, they were surprised by Tébu robbers, and three of them were killed and two captured and bound and carried off, as were also all the donkeys which were to have transported the dates to Agades.”

During the time I camped at Aouderas I spent much time in the mountains and witnessed many of the wild magnificent scenes which are to be found on the tops and in rock-girt valleys, whether one travels eastward or westward or northward among the many ranges. In the detached Amattasa mountains, west of Aouderas, I hunted to an altitude of 4,000 ft., which is near to but not the highest summit; and in the Aouderas mountains, north of the village, I reached an altitude over 3,000 ft., which, however, is a long way from the summit of this massive rugged range. There is some very fine scenery in the Amattasa range, while on the east side of it there is a rocky river-bed which has a course in a cliff-banked gully that cuts deeply below the level of the surrounding land. The natives call this river the Tarare. Immediately below a ruined village of the same name there is, in this stream, a remarkable dry waterfall of great height, while in deep cavities in the rock at the bottom there are pools of open water and some green vegetation; the only place in Aïr where I have found a river containing open water in the dry season which was long-lying and not the outcome of recent rains. The cliffs of the fall and the sheer banks on either side were the haunts of numerous dark-coloured apes, which stared curiously upon the strange intruders and barked repeatedly. There is, also, a cave at the foot of the east bank which the Chief of Aouderas declares used to be the home of lions.

Passing north of Amattasa mountains, the river Tarare runs out into a very wide valley of dark gravel ground, with hills and mountains on all sides; and this is the way through from Aouderas Glen to the Assada valley, which lies between Baguezan and Béla mountains, and which I had viewed, further north, from the head of the north-west pass out of Baguezan.

The Chief of Aouderas, whose name is Ochullu, proved to be a fine hunter, and thoroughly friendly, and together we hunted in all directions, sleeping among the mountains at night on occasions, so that we might travel farther and be high in the hills at break of day.

Besides collecting birds, and small mammals, and butterflies in the Aouderas neighbourhood, I had the good fortune to kill three wild sheep (wily difficult animals to approach), one of them a nice museum specimen, which was skinned complete, while another proved to be the largest of the kind which I shot in Aïr, weighing 164 lbs., but was, unfortunately, no use as a specimen, as it had one massive horn diseased at the base.

Ochullu was not nearly so active among the rocks as Minerou (the Chief of Baguezan), and whereas Minerou had led me many a pretty dance among wild mountain-tops, I found it was now my turn to reverse the position and give Ochullu some gruelling experiences.

With reference to this subject I received about this time a letter from the Commanding Officer at Agades, which contained the following paragraph: “Minerou has come to Agades; he told me you are not fat, you climb the rocks like the Ragin-douchi (wild sheep), and you are very fond of rats; so everything is right.” Let me hasten to add that even although I may be lean, I do not eat rats. (The amusing remark of Minerou is intended to refer to my efforts to collect small rodents of all kinds.)

But, to return to the subject of the preceding paragraph, if not a hard hunter, Ochullu was a wise one, who knew every crevice in the mountains and the habits of our quarry, so that it was a pleasure to set out with him.

Ochullu has a memorable mark upon his person, which I shall always associate with this “Child of the mountains”—a deep sword wound slashed across his left side, which was often exposed when he lifted his arm and the loose mantle drapings of his sleeve uncovered his swarthy side, which, below the armpit, was bare to the waist.

Ochullu, like all Tuaregs, is familiar with robbers and with fighting. In fact I believe he is inclined to be a bit of an independent outlaw himself, for he showed me a hiding-place, high in the Aouderas range, where he and his tribe had fled from the French soldiers during the 1916 rising, and where they had hidden till a peaceable truce was arranged. While now, at the time of my visit, he does not appear altogether content to acknowledge the authority of the newly appointed Sultan of Agades.

Among other interesting things, Ochullu showed me where last year, one afternoon, twelve robbers had come in close to Aouderas and lain in hiding in a ravine while two of their band went right in to the village outskirts and spoke as friends to a native woman, gathering wood, whom they craftily questioned as to the inmates of the village. They sought to obtain news of the movements of the white men in Agades; whether there were any soldiers in the neighbourhood, whether or not the Chief of Aouderas was at home in the village, and how many rifles the natives possessed. However, Ochullu and some armed men chanced to be at home at the time, which circumstance was apparently disquieting to the robbers, for they thereafter prudently withdrew, taking with them two camels which they had found grazing near where they lay in hiding. But that same band proceeded to Baguezan, and it was they who a few days later raided camels of Baguezan and killed the late Chief Yofa, as I have previously related.

Ochullu made some interesting remarks with regard to Rains. Thus far it has been a rainless year at Aouderas, like last year, and Ochullu declares that if rain does not fall with the present moon (full moon, 27th July, to-morrow), none will come this year. Further, he told me that Aouderas would still have water in the wells in the event of no proper rainfall occurring for a period of four years, while he says Iferouan, Timia, and Azzal all suffer want if there is not rainfall in two years.

Ochullu is very superstitious, and declares that if only the Sultan of Agades would call all the people of the land together and make a great united prayer to Allah, they would then surely have rain.

On 1st August I left Aouderas and started south, intending to return to Agades to commence the long journey south to Kano, after circling round the eastern side of the Massif of Tarrouaji.

Accompanied by the goumiers, I departed from Aouderas at dusk after warm leave-taking with Ochullu and many of his tribe, among whom I had been made welcome from the start; while I carried away a number of bundles of fresh dates (the first of the season), presented by the Chief in final token of goodwill: a gift which I afterwards conveyed all the way home to England. We travelled till very late by light of the full moon, and camped out in the stony Ararouat plains, which I had passed through before on the way to Baguezan.

Continuing at dawn on the following day, we crossed the extensive gravel-covered plain which lies between the Ararouat river and the northern base of Tarrouaji, and camped about noon on the In Ouajou river (altitude, 2,750 ft.), a small dry river-bed in flat country north of the massive hill range.

In the late afternoon a thunderstorm advanced over us, and, much to my relief, some rain fell; for, previous to leaving Aouderas, I had been warned that no water is to be found anywhere in the neighbourhood of Tarrouaji in the dry season, and all the goumiers were averse to my attempting to make the journey. Nevertheless, I had set out; but when search for water in the neighbourhood of our In Ouajou camp had proved completely fruitless, I began to fear that our plight would force me to give up the intention of going round Tarrouaji—and then the storm broke, leaving small pools of water in its wake, and an awkward situation was saved. As the natives put it: “Allah had listened to me.”

3rd August. I remarked this morning, after the rain, a few short hours of dawn, when earth was damp and grass roots already green and the pipe of wilderness birds filled the air with unwonted cheerfulness. . . . For a moment spring in the desert . . . ere stilled in its birth by scorching sun and driving sand.

Travelled from daylight to dusk round the eastern base of Tarrouaji, and camped at a pool of water, which was found close in under the hills after some searching.

From the north and east the massif of Tarrouaji appears a great jumble of hills of no great height, which do not die out at the plain’s edge with the impressive strength that may be found in great mountain slopes or towering cliffs, but rather do they tail away in broken diminishing lines to outlying plains, where little straggling hills of rock are seen as far as the eye can penetrate.

On the following day I did not resume caravan travel, but left the goumiers in camp and set out before dawn to climb into Tarrouaji hill-tops. During the day the highest of numerous altitudes recorded was 3,100 ft., and, so far as I could judge by eye, I doubt if any of the innumerable crowded hill-tops which constitute this range exceed that figure. As the altitude of our camp on the east base of the range was 2,300 ft., the actual elevation of the range itself, to its highest points, in that quarter was therefore only 800 ft.

Those hills hold wild and barren scenes and no fertility, and are seldom, if ever, entered by natives, which accounts, no doubt, for the number of Barbary Sheep which I found inhabiting this range and the ease with which I could approach them. Hitherto I had been mightily pleased if I got a single shot at sheep during a day’s hunting, but on this day I killed no fewer than four animals, and looked upon half a dozen others within range which I allowed to go unharmed. It was here that I secured the best head taken by me in Aïr of the new subspecies of Barbary Sheep (Ammotragus lervia angusi).

5th August.—We left our camp on the east side of Tarrouaji in the middle of the night, and travelled on round to the south side of the range as far as the district known as Tin-Daouin, where we camped for the day while I skinned a specimen of vulture I had shot. Thunder had been over us yesterday, but very little rain fell; however, to-day we entered country where it was apparent there had been heavy rain yesterday, for the ground was water-soaked, and the sands of the river-beds were cast in freshly lain wavelets as the result of flood an hour or two subsided.

6th August.—We saddled our camels and were away at dawn, and travelled till 3.30 p.m., when we camped in Tin-Teborag valley (altitude, 1,900 ft.), having left the hills of Tarrouaji behind and advanced near to Agades, which now lay due west not far distant. Throughout the day the country was rolling and somewhat roughly broken, while a number of broad valleys were crossed at intervals where river tributaries trend south to join the mainstream Tin-Daouin, which passes eastward in a flat valley well away from the hills. Those valleys, with river-bed in their centre, are wide and very shallow, as is usual everywhere in lowland in Aïr, with little or no banks; merely a slight slope of gravel or rock surroundings, terminating where sand and grass tussocks and trees of the valley begin. Much of the undulating country is of pleasant warm-coloured browns and greys in certain morning and evening lights: wide stretches of ground surface of pebbles of an orderly smallness and sameness, as smoothly and well-arranged as a pebble beach on sea-shore which the tide has just left. Indeed the whole outlook in such foothill gravel country of an early morn is remarkable: strange because of the absence of earth and vegetation, but with an artistic appeal to the eye on account of its striking orderliness and cleanness and uncommon purity of colour.

On the following evening we travelled in to Agades: my travels in the mountains of Aïr at an end, and the long journey south to Nigeria all that lay between me and the completion of my travels.

Before concluding this narrative I would like to make brief reference to the native inhabitants of Aïr.

I have said elsewhere that the total population of Aïr at the present time is made up of 5,000 Tuaregs. And they are strange people—the strangest race I have ever come in contact with— independent, haughty, daring, unscrupulous, and lazy in leisure, yet fit to rank among the finest travellers and camel-riders in the world. If one is to judge these Tuaregs fairly, one must try to conceive their surroundings and realise the all-important fact that they are practically wild people in a wild land that lies remote and unknown, and that they have had no advantages to influence them to be aught but wholly primitive. While, further, it may be well to remember that they are the remnant descendants of a race that was once crafty and able in war; indeed, even in the present day, they consider themselves the aristocrats of the land, and look down with scarcely veiled contempt on all negro tribes.

To the French officers and to many Hausa natives they are known as downright rascals, because they are cunning and deceitful in the most unprincipled way the moment they have any dealings with strangers, and I imagine that among themselves they hold belief that anyone outside their own tribe is a legitimate enemy to be overcome, if possible, by cunning artifice, since strength of arms is no longer theirs.

For my own part I found the Tuaregs of Aïr difficult people to deal with, and impossible people to rely on. Except at Timia and Aouderas, I met with no sincere friendliness at their hands, and was inclined to be wholly harsh in my judgment of them all, until my later experiences prompted me to be more inclined to mitigate my opinion of their shortcomings; for, after all, especially with primitive natives, one must live among such people for a long time to break through that protective reserve that shuts out the stranger as a suspect and interloper, and to learn to know them from an intimate point of view.

In appearance these Tuaregs, who are an Arab-like Semitic race, are not tall. The men are generally of strong, wiry build, inclined, if anything, to slimness, and I have never seen one of their sex in any degree corpulent. The women are smaller than the men, many of them not much more than five feet in height, and, at middle age, often grow to moderate stoutness.

The features of the Tuareg natives are usually of a swarthy copper colour of fairly light hue, while a few of them are as yellowish-white as Arabs. Their features are, of course, not of blunt negro type, and—when they can be seen unmasked—there is a pleasant variety of facial character among them, and no two are found to be alike.

Many of the women paint their faces—especially when attending a marriage or a feast—with a hideous pigment, sometimes yellow and sometimes red.

The men, without exception, wear the yashmak over their faces on all occasions. This is a long swathe of cotton cloth, sometimes white, but generally dark blue or black, which is wound round the head so that the lower folds cover all the face up to the centre of the nose-bridge, while the upper folds are passed over the forehead and overlap the eyebrows, so that a hood is formed to shade the eyes from the fierce rays of the sun. All that remains visible of an individual’s face are two piercing dark eyes that peer out of the narrow slit in the mask. One may know Tuaregs thus masked for months, and identify individuals by little more than their eyes; but should the yashmak ever be removed, the transformation is so staggering that it is impossible to recognise the person at all, since you have never seen the face before in its entirety. The women wear a cotton shawl cast over the crown of the head, in typical work-girl fashion, but they do not cover the face or wear yashmak in any form. Wearing the yashmak is a Moslem custom, but outside its religious purport I am not sure but that it is a very comfortable and sensible thing for those nomads of desert places to wear, for it serves as splendid protection to the face in biting sandstorms, since it completely covers the mouth and nostrils and ears, while it hoods the eyes from fierce and tiring sun-glare.

As to the garb of the men, they are clothed in full-flowing cotton gowns which reach almost to the ground, while folds drop from the shoulders to the elbows to look like wide sleeves without being actually sewn to that form. Underneath this robe are worn loose baggy cotton trousers secured round the waist. The robes are, in general, white or dark indigo-blue (a dye locally obtained in Hausaland, where all Tuareg clothing is bought), and the latter colour is the most becoming. All the men wear leather sandals on otherwise naked feet. For ornament they wear leather wallets containing charms and trinkets, which are hung in front of the person suspended from a cord round the neck. Bangles above the elbows on the arms are also commonly worn, usually made out of soft slate-like native stone, which may be hewn to bangle-shape and then polished to a glossy blackness; sometimes the bangles are of cheap metal, welded out of scraps of brass or tin by the local blacksmith. All Tuaregs carry double-edged swords in a leather sheath slung over the shoulder on a strap.