ARRIVAL AT MARTI) ARA’S COURT 
103 
in an agitated whisper, “ Mandara lias come, and is 
waiting to greet you.” I left my tent in as composed 
a manner as possible, and sought Mandara with my 
eyes. He was not difficult to distinguish from his 
body-guard. With a natural instinctive feeling for 
effect he had grouped his soldiers in a semicircle round 
him, and placed himself somewhat in front, with a 
crescent of fierce-looking warriors behind, each man 
holding his shining spear-blade erect and glistening, 
thereby edging the dark background with a bright 
shimmering band of steel. The first impression 
Mandara produced on me was that of a grand old 
woman ! The full, rounded, beardless face, the some¬ 
what graceful column-like neck, and full bosom, with 
above all the head-dress—a red handkerchief, worn as 
women wear it in Zanzibar—and the sweeping folds 
of the long faded cloth wound loosely round his body, 
gave one the impression of a superb virago rather 
than of an African chief in the prime of life. Mandara, 
like a towering sibyl of five feet ten inches, planted 
his spear in the ground with an emphasis that long 
made the blade quiver, gave me one very sharp look 
out of his only serviceable eye (the sight of the other 
is destroyed), and then for the moment took no direct 
notice of my presence, but commenced a long and 
animated chat with his head policemen, listening ap¬ 
parently with much amusement to their account of 
the summary way in which the populace had recently 
been dispersed, and occasionally laughing in a right 
royal manner, showing, as he did so, a splendid set of 
teeth. 
At last I was nettled by this apparent disregard—it 
is always dangerous to be too meek and unassuming 
with African chiefs—so I asked my head-man in an 
