“TROUBLOUS TIMES.” 
173 
would not be set fire to with the same ease as a 
stockade of dead timber. One small opening alone 
appeared, through which cattle could just be pushed, 
and which, during a siege, was closed with heavy 
wooden doors and guarded with the two small cannon 
Mandara possessed. We made our way through the 
lowing herds of cattle, passed many minor bulwarks 
and hedges, and at length arrived before a large 
building of wattle and clay, shaped almost like a 
European house. Herein Mandara was sitting with 
his wives and children, and, in strange contrast to his 
usual majestic demeanour, seemed quite tremulous 
with fear. His western borders were being devastated 
unopposed, and all his soldiers were engaged in fierce 
battle on the southern side. I sat some while with 
him, and assured him of my earnest co-operation and 
of our ultimate invincibility. Then loud shouts began 
to sound nearer and nearer to the tree-girt walls, and 
while his attendants rushed to inspect the on-comers, 
Mandara clutched my hand and implored me not to 
leave him. But he had no cause for further alarm. The 
shouting came from his own victorious soldiers, who, 
after a desperate battle of several hours’ duration, had 
succeeded in beating back the enemy’s invasion on the 
southern frontier, and were now prepared, after quench¬ 
ing their thirst, to go and avenge their slaughtered 
brethren on the west. This news made Mandara a 
new man. He shook me by both hands, he laughed 
aloud, skipped about, and then seizing his huge broad- 
bladed spear, he struck the ground with its shaft, drew 
up his fine figure to its full height, and strode about 
the compound with haughty mien and gleaming eye, 
the very embodiment of a warrior chief, and very 
different to the almost lubberly creature who a few 
