HUNTING AND HUNTED IN BELGIAN CONGO 



the report, the two who were not hit sprang up and dashed 

 into the matamma field at the back. I was compelled to 

 be sparing with my ammunition, for I had but twenty 

 rounds left, and was many days from another supply or 

 any chance of help. It was a tough time, and I little 

 expected to come through alive. 



Salem called my attention to a river further on the 

 path some three-quarters of a mile away, and again we set 

 off down the slope on a narrow track through the long 

 grass. On either side of us within a few yards were 

 excited savages ; but although they were so close the 

 density of the grass prevented us seeing them. They 

 ran alongside of us whispering hurriedly and hoarsely, 

 and making strange cries. Reed whistles and horrible 

 noises made by the mouth and the hollows of the hands, 

 were kept up unceasingly. 



In a few minutes as we neared the river, they even 

 shot arrows across the path at random, but most of them 

 flew high ; one hit the six-pound bag of rice that Salem 

 was carrying in the bucket on his head, resting, as it was, 

 on the top of the load ; it was pierced by the arrow which 

 hung loosely by the barbs in the sacking, while a thin 

 trail of rice continued to leave a track on the path as the 

 boy jogged along. 



I could hardly repress a smile even at that critical 

 moment. When we were within fifty yards of the river 

 the arrows were coming in pretty fast, and we had several 

 narrow escapes ; one would have struck my helmet if I 

 had not ducked. The banks of the river were lined with 

 overhanging bushes for some distance, and I hoped to be 

 able to slink down to the water between them. At last 

 we got to the river, and the three boys dashed in. I 

 took cover behind the bushes and covered the path behind 

 while they waded through the stream which was about 

 waist deep and running strongly. No one appeared on 

 the path behind us, and it seemed that our pursuers had 



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