THIRD JOURNEY. 165 



He marched for eight days through swamps, and over 

 places obstructed by fallen trees and the bush-rope ; 

 tormented by myriads of mosquitos, and ever in fear 

 of treading on the poisonous snakes, which can scarcely 

 be distinguished from the fallen leaves. 



At last he reached a wooded sand-hill, where the 

 Maroons had intrenched themselves in great force. Not 

 expecting to come so soon upon them, Mr. Edmonstone, 

 his faithful man Coffee, and two Indian chiefs, found 

 themselves considerably a-head of their own party. As 

 yet, they were unperceived by the enemy, but, unfortu- 

 nately, one of the Indian chiefs fired a random shot at 

 a distant Maroon. Immediately the whole negro camp 

 turned out, and formed themselves in a crescent, in 

 front of Mr. Edmonstone. Their chief was an uncom- 

 monly fine negro, about six feet in height ; and his 

 head-dress was that of an African warrior, ornamented 

 with a profusion of small shells. He advanced un- 

 dauntedly with his gun in his hand, and, in insulting 

 language, called out to Mr. Edmonstone to come on and 

 fight him. 



Mr. Edmonstone approached him slowly, in order 

 to give his own men time to come up ; but they were 

 yet too far off for him to profit by this manoeuvre. 

 Coffee, who carried his master's gun, now stepped up 

 behind him, and put the gun into his hand, which 

 Mr. Edmonstone received without advancing it to his 

 shoulder. 



He was now within a few yards of the Maroon chief, 

 who seemed to betray some symptoms of uncertainty ; 

 for instead of firing directly at Mr. Edmonstone, he 

 took a step sideways and rested his gun against a tree, 

 no doubt with the intention of taking a surer aim. 



