Chap. XVIII. WE MAKE A STAND. 357 



way there would he danger of their rousing against 

 us the villagers ahead, and then it would be almost 

 impossible to escape. I ordered a halt. Mouitchi, 

 one of our number, was missing, and we concluded 

 he had fallen a victim ; our pursuers, before we left 

 the village, had shouted to us that they had killed 

 him ; poor Igala, my best and bravest man, com- 

 plained sorely of the wound in his leg. He believed 

 the lance was poisoned, and said, " I shall die, 

 Chaillie, and shall never see my daughter again ! " 

 There was time only for a few words of encourage- 

 ment ; our pursuers were in sight, and a number of 

 men were threading the jungle apparently with a 

 view of flanking us. I shouldered my long-range 

 rifle, a splendid weapon made by Beckwith, and, as 

 the leader advanced adjusting his bow, I fired. His 

 right arm dropped broken and powerless by his side, 

 and the next man behind fell with a crash amongst a 

 mass of fallen leaves and branches. Rebouka also 

 fired at a man in the bush, who disappeared sud- 

 denly, as if shot, down a steep bank. This served 

 as a check for the present, and we jogged on more 

 leisurely. 



We had not gone far when a tumultuous shouting 

 was heard behind us and a large number of warriors 

 hove in sight, more furious than ever. The path 

 was most difficult, over one steep hill after another, 

 and the village of Mobana, likely to be hostile to us, 

 was only about a mile from us. We increased our 

 speed, but our pursuers were within range, and a 

 paralysing thud, accompanied by a sharp pain, told 

 me that I had been again struck. This time it was 



