I knew that many people hated Kabba Rega. Umbogo had frequently assured me that Mashudi, which was only two days distant from Masindi, to the south-east, had always been Rionga's stronghold; and that the natives of that district would rise in favour of their chief, should any reverse befall Kabba Rega.

The news of the defeat of his army, and the complete destruction of his capital, would run through the country like wild-fire. It was well known that Rionga had spies, who were disguised as friends, even at the court of Kabba Rega; these agents sent him information of all that occurred.

If Umbogo could communicate with one of these people, I might send off to Rionga, and beg him to send 300 men to Fatiko, with a letter from myself to Major Abdullah. Rionga's people would transport the effects instead of Rabba Rega's carriers, who would be seized and held as hostages. This would save Abdullah from the intended treachery, if it were done at once; but there was not a moment to lose.

Already fifteen days had elapsed since my party with the post had started, and by this time they should be near Fatiko, (at that time they had already been treacherously attacked.) unless they had been delayed upon the road, as was usual in Unyoro.

If I could depend upon Rionga, he would at once save Abdullah's party, and he would send a large force to communicate with me at Masindi.

Had I provisions, I could have held my now fortified position against a whole world of niggers; but with only a hundred men, I should be unable to forage in this country of high grass, and at the same time defend the station.

All depended upon the possibility of my communication with Rionga.

Umbogo declared that if I would only march to Mashudi, the natives would rise in his favour and join me.

I told him that if this were true, he could surely find some person who would run to Mashudi, and raise the malcontents, who would at once carry my message to Rionga.

Umbogo promised to do his best: at the same time he expressed an opinion that Rionga would not wait long in inaction, but that he would invade Kabba Rega directly that he should hear of the war. From my experience of natives, I did not share his opinion.

As Kittakara had apologized for the attack to Colonel Abd-el-Kader, and a truce had been arranged, a great number of natives spread themselves over the ruins of the town, to search for the iron molotes, which are generally concealed in the earth, beneath the floor of the huts. The natives were all prodding the smoking ground with the iron-tipped butt-ends of their lances to discover the treasures.

Umbogo now went among them with his guard, and conversed upon the cause of the late attack.

In the evening, Umbogo declared that he was not quite certain of the truth; he evidently suspected the sincerity of Kabba Rega. It was quite impossible to procure any messenger at present that could be trusted with a message to Rionga.

The memorable 8th of June happened to be my birthday. It had been the day of death to my lamented follower, Monsoor; but we had well avenged him.

Umbogo reported that the natives had given him the names of nine matongales (chiefs) killed in the action, together with a large number of common people. A great many were still missing: these were probably lying in the high grass which had been raked by the hot fire of the sniders. Vultures were collected in immense numbers over many spots in this dense covert, which denoted the places where the "missing" had fallen.

I ordered the troops to abandon their undefended camp, and to sleep within the fort that night.

The morning of the 9th of June arrived—the night had passed in perfect quiet.

My troops set to work with their sharp sword-bayonets, swords, knives, &c., to cut down all the high grass in the neighbourhood, so as to throw open the view, and prevent the enemy from attacking us by another surprise. They worked for many hours, and soon found a number of the missing, who were lying dead. Five bodies were discovered close together, as though they had been killed by a shell. This was in a spot where the "Forty Thieves" had been at work.

One unfortunate creature was found in the high grass with a smashed leg. He had been lying, thirsty and in pain, for about thirty hours in the same spot. My men gave him water and food, and his friends came and took him away. The wounded man seemed very grateful, and he told my soldiers that they were "better men than the Unyoros, who would certainly murder a wounded enemy instead of giving him food and water."

I had told Umbogo to make inquiries as to the safety of little Cherri-Merri. The boy was unharmed, as he had been taken away before the fight.

It was now proved that the cows had also been removed during the night previous to the attack, as I had suspected.

During the day, vast number of people were collected at a large village, situated on a knoll, about 700 yards from our station in a direct line. This place, we were informed, was now occupied by Kabba Rega. The knoll was about eighty feet lower than our high position; therefore, as we had roughly cut down the grass, we looked directly upon the village.

We lost no time in erecting the large astronomical telescope upon its stand. This was placed upon the flat gravel approach in front of the government divan, and through the powerful glass we could distinguish each feature, and the expression of every individual countenance of the crowd within the village.

During the day, messengers arrived from Kabba Rega with an official explanation of the misunderstanding. They declared that it was entirely the fault of Matonse, who would be soon captured; that Kabba Rega desired them to express his deep regret; "Was he not my son? Did he not depend upon the protection of his father?" He only begged for peace. The natives had been killed in great numbers; therefore "if we had lost a few soldiers, the Unyoro had lost many—so the affair was settled."

I told them that nothing could ever compensate for the loss of Monsoor, who had been so treacherously killed; at the same time, if Kabba Rega could prove that the guilt really lay with Matonse, the simple plan would be to deliver him up to me.

I recalled to their recollection how I had passed ten months in Unyoro in the reign of Kamrasi, at which time I had only an escort of thirteen men, and no misunderstanding had ever occurred. I explained that the fault was not on my side. An attempt had been made to poison us collectively; we had then been surprised by a thoroughly organized attack, at a time when the troops were supposed to have been disabled by the poison.

Kabba Rega must clear his character. If he were innocent, I should be only too happy.

The matongale, or sheik, who was the principal messenger, assured me that Kabba Rega was quite in despair, and that he had given orders for provisions and a large quantity of ivory to be collected, which would be sent to us on the day following, in charge of Rahonka and Kittakara.

The want of provisions was sorely felt; fortunately, as our cows had been dying daily, the troops had some sweet potatoes that had been purchased in exchange for flesh. These would last for a few days.

A short time before the attack, I had promised to send Kabba Rega a porcelain cache-pot. I therefore took the opportunity of reminding the sheik of my promise, and I begged him to deliver the piece of china to Kabba Rega as a proof of my peaceful intentions, should he really be innocent of the treachery.

The handsome present was wrapped up in red Turkey cloth, and the messengers departed.

I watched them through the telescope, and, upon their arrival at the village below us, I distinctly witnessed, not only their reception by the expectant crowd, but the cache-pot was unpacked and held at arm's length above the head, to be exhibited to the admiring people.

This looked well. My officers began to believe in peace; and, although I still had strong suspicions, I hoped that the signal defeat which Kabba Rega's army had sustained had so far cowed them as to induce a termination of hostilities, that would enable me to communicate with Major Abdullah.

The luggage from the government divan had all been carried to the fort. This was now returned to our original quarters; my wife and her black maids were working hard at rearranging the rooms.

The night passed quietly.

On 10th of June a matongale and several natives arrived from Kabba Rega, with a most polite message and friendly assurances, accompanied by a present of two beautiful white cows.

The messengers corroborated the statement of the preceding day, that large quantities of provisions were being prepared for us, together with twenty elephants' tusks, which were to be delivered as a peace-offering by Rahonka and Kittakara in person.

Affairs looked brighter. It was my best policy to secure peace if possible.

I determined to send Kabba Rega, in return for his present of cows, the large Geneva musical box, with drums and bells, which he had always desired.

No one knew how to wind it up; and it was necessary that some person should accompany it with the native messengers.

The clerk of the detachment, Ramadan, who has already been mentioned as a favourite with the natives, and a good linguist, at once volunteered to be the bearer of the present. Since the battle of Masindi, Ramadan had been in frequent personal communication with the natives, and he assured me that there was a general desire for peaceful relations. He was supposed to be a favourite of Kabba Rega's, and it was therefore arranged that he should accompany the musical box, which was a good load for a fast-travelling native.

Hafiz, the farrier, whose occupation was nearly gone by the death of all the horses but two, volunteered to accompany Ramadan. I ordered them to go unarmed, as their peaceful mission would be at once understood; this fact would establish confidence among the natives.

It was about 3 P.M. when they started, and we watched their arrival in the village with the telescope, where they appeared to be well received.

In the evening they both returned with the musical box, accompanied by the sheik who was to be their guide, as Kabba Rega had retired to a town at which he had a residence, about half a day's march distant. It was arranged that they should start on the following morning.

On the 11th June, Ramadan and Hafiz, together with the musical box, started, and we watched their reception at the village with the telescope. I had released Umbogo, whom I had sent to Kabba Rega to explain all that he had seen of the outbreak, as he was one of those that had been poisoned by the plaintain cider. Umbogo promised to return as soon as possible. The dragoman, Abou Kooka, remained with us in the place of Umbogo. This was a sullen-looking brute who had been a slave stolen from the Madi tribe.

I must now take an extract verbatim from my journal, that was written on the day of the incident. Any warm expressions in this extract must be excused as a natural consequence, for which I trust due allowance will be granted:—

"I walked round the burnt town of Masindi, accompanied by Julian (Lieutenant Baker), Abd-el-Kader, and two guards of 'The Forty.' Neither Abd-el-Kader nor I carried guns, as I wished to establish confidence among the natives who were searching among the ashes for molotes.

"I sent for the dragoman, Abou Kooka, and conversed with the natives, assuring them of peace, and that I had no ill-will against Kabba Rega, if Matonse was the cause of the outbreak. At the same time, I told them to bring provisions for sale.

"They seemed very shy, and replied that 'all would be right when the messengers should arrive from Kabba Rega. One by one they went away, until only two were left. Julian gave his gun to one of the guards.

"The two natives were standing on the edge of the high grass, close to the ashes of the town, and they appeared more confident, as they conversed with us at about twelve yards' distance.

"Presently they said they would come close to us, were it not for their fear of the two sentries with their rifles, who were about forty yards in our rear.

"I turned round to order the sentries to retire a little. The instant that my back was turned, one of the treacherous brutes hurled his spear at me, which struck quivering in the earth at my feet! At the same moment they bolted into the high grass, accompanied by our dragoman, Abou Kooka, and disappeared at once like fish in water!

"The treachery of the negro is beyond belief; he has not a moral human instinct, and is below the brute. How is it possible to improve such abject animals? They are not worth the trouble, and they are only fit for slaves, to which position their race appears to have been condemned.

"I believe I have wasted my time and energy, and have uselessly encountered difficulties, and made enemies by my attempt to suppress the slave trade, and thus improve the condition of the natives.

"It is now 4.40 P.M., and I am anxious about Ramadan and Hafiz, who have not returned.

"My men have been on half rations since the 8th inst., and we have supplies only for to-morrow, after which we shall be obliged to forage, unless Kabba Rega sends the promised provisions. "It is impossible to believe one word in this accursed country. At the same time that Kabba Rega declares peace and good-will, he may be planning a surprise. I do not think, however, that his people will be in a hurry to fight after the lesson they received on the 8th inst.

"Nevertheless, fighting is dangerous work in this country of high grass, where troops cannot see to manoeuvre, and where the ground is everywhere favourable for native ambuscades."

When I returned to the divan with the spear that had so narrowly missed me, through the cowardice of the assailant (who should have made sure of me, had he not been nervous), my wife was not cheered by the little incident. She had had the same experience as myself in African natures, and she immediately declared against the pretended sincerity of Kabba Rega.

I had serious misgivings. Nothing can happen in Unyoro without the order of the king. The superstitious veneration for the possessor of the magic throne produces a profound obedience.

On the other hand, this attempt at murder might have been only the revenge of an individual who had perhaps lost his house and property in the conflagration of Masindi.

The evening arrived without tidings of either Ramadan or Umbogo. I was now without an interpreter.

The troops, and their wives and effects, occupied the fort, and the officers' quarters and camp had been abandoned.

It was about 8 P.M., and dinner being over, I was smoking my pipe in the divan, conversing with my wife and Lieutenant Baker upon the situation of affairs, when a sudden bright glare attracted my attention.

An officer immediately reported that the abandoned quarters were in a blaze of fire!

I was of course ready in an instant, and armed, and accompanied by my wife and Mr. Baker, I really enjoyed the beauty of the scene in that moment of anxiety.

Without the slightest noise, or even an audible whisper, the troops were all in position, kneeling on the ground in open order around the fort and the divan, keeping the most vigilant watch for the appearance of an enemy. The flames from the camp rose about seventy feet high. There was not a breath of air; thus the fire danced and leapt up to its extreme height, and illumined the neighbourhood for a great distance.

Not an enemy was to be seen. The soldiers were like statues, and there was no sound except the roaring of flames.

Suddenly loud yells broke out from a distance of about 200 yards from the farthest side of the fort, as though from a considerable body of men. Not a soldier stirred or spoke.

I had cleared the grass around the fort and station, therefore it was impossible to approach us unobserved.

The natives must have crept up stealthily, and fired the abandoned camp in the expectation that the troops would have rushed down to extinguish the flames, and thus the fort and the divan would have been at the mercy of an attack from the dark side.

I immediately sent a strong patrol around the station, but not a soul was visible. The attempt had failed.

Once more the luggage, with beds, boxes, &c., was transported from the divan to the fort.

The night passed quietly. On 12th June, I watched the natives with the telescope, and I observed that many of the crowd were gesticulating in an excited manner.

I was almost convinced that we were again subjected to the foulest treachery, and I was extremely anxious about Ramadan and Hafiz. I could hardly believe it possible that these poor men, unarmed, and carrying a valuable present, would be cruelly murdered.

The day passed in hope and expectation of their return. Late in the evening, the act of incendiarism of the preceding night was renewed, and the deserted house of Colonel Abd-el-Kader was in a bright blaze without a native being visible.

No yells were heard, nor any other sound. The troops turned out with their usual quiet discipline, but not a shot was fired.

The 13th June arrived.—Still there were no tidings of either Umbogo, Ramadan, or Hafiz. I now felt convinced that the young villain, Kabba Rega, had played me false, and that he was only gaining time to collect and organize the whole force of Unyoro to attack us, and to line the path to the river with ambuscades.

It is impossible to this day to say whether Umbogo was true or false. I never saw him again; and the unfortunate Ramadan and Hafiz were wantonly murdered.

At about 10 A.M., 13th June, we were let into the secret of Kabba Rega's villainy. A sudden rush of natives was made upon the cattle, which were grazing within sixty yards of the fort! Poisoned arrows were shot, and a general attack was made upon the station. Guns fired; the bullets whistled over our heads, and I thought I recognized the crack of our lost sniders (those of Monsoor and Ferritch), that were employed against us.

The curtain had now risen. When the actual fighting arrived, there was some little relaxation from the intense anxiety of mind that I had suffered for some days.

I at once ordered the men into line, and the bugles and drums sounded the charge with the bayonet.

The gallant "Forty Thieves" led the way, with drums beating and a hearty cheer, and dashed through the ruins of the town and straight into the high grass on the other side, from which the cowardly enemy fled like hares.

On our return to the station, I at once ordered Colonel Abd-el-Kader to take eighty men and some blue lights, and to destroy every village in the neighbourhood. The attack was made on the instant. The large village, about 700 yards distant, which I had raked with the fire of a few sniders, while Abd-el-Kader descended the slope to the attack, was soon a mass of rolling flames. In an hour's time volumes of smoke were rising in various directions.

My active and gallant colonel returned, having driven the enemy from every position, and utterly destroyed the neighbourhood.

I had made up my mind. There could be no longer any doubt of the diabolical treachery of Kabba Rega. He had only endeavoured to gain time by specious assurances of good-will, combined with presents, in order to organize the whole country against us. The natives who shot arrows must have come from Magungo, as none of the other districts were armed with bows. The arrows that had been shot at us, which my men had collected, were thickly poisoned with a hard gummy matter.

It was now rendered certain that a snare had been laid for the massacre of Major Abdullah's party.

Kabba Rega had no doubt ordered the various routes towards Rionga's province to be ambuscaded.

I determined at once to push straight for the camp at Foweera on the Victoria Nile, as Rionga's island was about fifteen miles from that point.

Among the men of the "Forty Thieves", there was a soldier named Abdullah, who had an extraordinary instinct for finding his way. This man never forgot a path if he had ever travelled upon the same route.

I also depended upon my Baris and Molodi; although they had not long experience of the path by which we had arrived from Foweera with the cattle, they were clever as guides.

Unfortunately, the country had changed terribly by the immense growth of the grass and tangled creepers.

I felt sure that the route would be occupied by the enemy throughout the whole distance, and that we should have to fight every mile of the path at a grave disadvantage.

The question of a supply of food was vital. The men had mostly exhausted their provisions.

At this critical moment, when every man of the expedition felt the fatal truth, my wife confided her secret, that she had hitherto concealed, lest the knowledge of a hidden store should have made the men extravagant. She now informed them that in past days of plenty, when flour had been abundant, she had, from time to time, secreted a quantity, and she had now SIX LARGE IRON BOXES FULL (about twelve bushels). This private store she had laid by in the event of some sudden emergency.

"God shall give her a long life!" exclaimed both officers and men. We had now enough flour for the march of seven days to Foweera, at which place there were regular forests of plantains.

My herd of cattle had been reduced to seventy, and I much doubted the possibility of driving them in a high grass country, as they would scatter and make a stampede should we be attacked; they would be scared by the guns.

I mustered my force and spoke to my men, to whom I explained their exact position, and my plan of action.

I should immediately divide among them, as presents, all the cotton stuffs that belonged to the expedition.

Each man would carry three pounds of beads in his knapsack, one-third of which should subsequently belong to him.

The line of march would be thus arranged—a Bari, who professed to know the path, would lead the advance-guard of fifteen sniders, commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel Abd-el-Kader, supported by myself with ten sniders in charge of the ammunition, accompanied by Lieutenant Baker, my wife, and two servants, carrying double breechloading elephant rifles. The rear-guard would consist of fifteen sniders. The few remaining sniders would be distributed along the line.

Neither the advance; nor rear-guard would carry any loads beyond their knapsacks and a small bag of flour. Five of the sniders with me would also be exempted from carrying loads; but every other soldier, and every woman and boy, would carry either one of the metal boxes or some other package.

I explained to the men that they would be attacked throughout the route at a great disadvantage, but that success would depend upon the strict observance of orders for the march combined with the utmost coolness.

Each man was to keep just near enough to be able to touch with his outstretched hand the knapsack of the man before him, and upon no account to widen this distance, but to keep the line intact. Should it be broken by the sudden rush of the enemy, we should at once be lost.

Should the attack be made simultaneously on both sides, alternate files would face to right and left, place their loads upon the ground, and fire low down in the grass, as the natives always crouched after throwing a spear from covert.

A bugler would accompany the colonel commanding the advance-guard, in addition to buglers with myself and the rear-guard; thus we should be able to communicate along the line, which would be concealed from view by the high grass.

On arrival at water, and in crossing either swamps or streams, no man or woman was to stop to drink unless the bugle of the advance-guard sounded halt.

No woman would be allowed to speak during the march, as profound silence must be observed.

The officers and men received their instructions, merely declaring that wherever I should lead them, they would follow and obey.

I at once divided the effects that could be carried, into the requisite number of loads, which were carefully packed in metal boxes by my wife and her black maids. It was hard and anxious work. The strongest men were selected to carry the boxes of snider cartridges, which weighed 64 lbs. each.

All the rest of the baggage I arranged in piles, and distributed in the government divan and the various houses. I spread my large tent over the luggage in the divan, and poured over it a quantity of nitrous ether, spirits of wine, lamp-oil, spirits of turpentine, and all the contents of the large medicine-chest.

I filled up my small chest, and took a good roll of adhesive plaster, a number of bandages, and a packet of lint.

Upon the tent-cloth, rendered highly inflammable by the saturation of spirits and oil, I laid about sixty rockets.

My two horses and three donkeys would be loaded with baggage.

I gave orders for the march early on the following morning. The rear-guard was to set fire to the station; this was the sad result of our industry and labour in a land of detestable savages.



CHAPTER XXII

THE MARCH TO RIONGA.

On the morning of the 14th of June, 1872, at 9.30, the advance-guard filed along the gravel path, and halted at the extremity of the station at Masindi. The line was complete, according to the orders for the march. Not a word was spoken. A light, drizzling rain fell, and the sky was a dull grey.

I looked back, and waited for the destruction of my favourite station. In our little house we had left pictures of my own children, and everything that was not absolutely necessary to our existence. Even the Queen and the Princess of Wales were to perish in the conflagration, together with much that was parted with in this moment of exigency.

The smoke now curled in thick, white folds from the government divan and our own private house.

Lieutenant Baker's new house was ignited. O ne by one every hut was fired. The rear-guard, having done their duty, closed up in the line of march.

I did not give the word "Forward!" until the flames had shot up high in the air, and the station was in the possession of the fire. At this moment a loud report announced that all the rockets had exploded. The advance-guard moved forward, and the march commenced.

We soon entered the high grass, which was reeking with the light rain, and we were wet through in an instant.

My wife was walking close behind me with a quantity of spare ammunition for the "Dutchman" in her breast. She had a Colt's revolver in her belt. Lieutenant Baker was heavily loaded, as he carried a Purdy rifle slung across his back, together with a large bag of ammunition, while he held a double breechloader smooth-bore in his hand, with a bag of heavy buckshot cartridges upon his shoulder.

Suleiman and Mohammed Haroon (our servants) were close by with my two breechloading No. 8 elephant rifles. These carried picrate of potash shells that were immensely powerful. Very little would have been left of the body of a man had one of such shells struck him in the chest.

The cattle began to cause much trouble as soon as the march commenced, and we slowly descended the knoll upon which the station stood, and in single file entered the extremely narrow path which led down to a small swamp.

Crossing the swamp, through deep mud, we arrived on firm ground, and continued to march slowly, on account of the cattle. I felt sure they would have to be abandoned. The cows strayed to the right and left, and Morgian the Bari, and Abdullah Djoor the cook, who were the drovers, were rushing about the grass in pursuit of refractory animals, that would shortly end in being speared by the enemy.

We thus marched for about a mile before a hostile sound was heard. We then distinguished the tumultuous voices of the natives in the rear, who had been attracted to the station by the general conflagration.

The slow march continued, through grass about eight feet high, and occasional forest. The rain now descended steadily, and I feared that the old muzzle-loading muskets would miss fire.

The sound of drums and horns was now heard throughout the country, as the alarm spread rapidly from village to village. We could hear the shouts of natives, and drums that were now sounding in the forest upon a hill on our right. These people were evidently in possession of a path unknown to us, which ran parallel to our route.

For seven hours the march continued with such frequent halts, owing to the straying of the cattle, that we had only progressed the short distance of ten miles, when, at 4.40 P.M., we entered the valley of Jon Joke. We saw before us the hill covered with plantain groves where we had slept when upon the march to Masindi.

The grass was very high, and the path hardly a foot wide, only resembling a sheep run. Suddenly the advance-guard opened a hot fire, and the bugle sounded "halt!"

A few paces in front of me, my favourite sailor and fisherman, Howarti, was in the line, carrying a metal box upon his head. In addition to his musket, which was slung across his shoulders, I had given him one of my double breechloading pistols, which he carried in his belt.

The word was suddenly passed that "Howarti was speared!"

Lances now flew across the path, and the line opened fire into the grass upon our right, according to orders.

I immediately went up to Howarti. I found him sitting upon the ground by the side of his box, in the act of reloading his pistol with a Boxer cartridge. A lance had struck him in the fleshy part of the right arm, just below the point of junction with the shoulder, and, passing through his body, it had protruded from his stomach. Upon feeling the wound, Howarti had dropped his load, and drawing his pistol, he shot the native dead, as he leapt from his ambush to recover the lance which was sticking in the poor fellow's body.

Here was another of my best men sacrificed. Howarti had always been a true, good man, and he had just exhibited his cool courage. He had himself pulled the spear from his body.

My wife had followed me immediately upon hearing that Howarti was injured. He had reloaded his pistol, but in reply to my question whether he could sit upon a donkey, he fainted. I roughly bandaged him for the present moment, and we laid him upon an angareb (stretcher-bedstead), but the men were so heavily laden that it was difficult to find supporters. Lieutenant Baker kindly took one end upon his shoulder, and with the assistance of the guard, we carried him forward. The bugle sounded the "advance."

Again the lances flew across the path, but a few shots with the sniders cleared the way, and leaving the narrow route, we broke our way through the tangled grass, and ascended the slope to the plantain forest. Here, thank goodness, there was no grass. The bugle sounded "halt" in the middle of the plantains.

Sentries having been posted, every man was now employed in felling the tall plantain trees, and in arranging them to form a wall around the camp.

One blow of a sharp, heavy sabre will cut through the stem, thus in a short time, as we all worked, a clearing of about an acre was made, and by sunset we had piled them so as to form a tolerable protection from lances.

Throughout the day it had never ceased raining, thus every one was soaking and miserable. Of course we had no tent, but some invaluable mackintosh camp sheets. I had examined Howarti's wounds, which I knew were mortal. The air as he breathed was rattling through the gash in his stomach. I washed and bandaged him carefully, and gave him a dose of brandy and laudanum.

No one had a drop of water to drink, neither did any one know the direction of the well; but, as all were cold and wet through, no person suffered from thirst. Fortunately, we had matches in a small silver case that had resisted the damp; and after some difficulty and delay, fires were blazing through the little bivouac, and the soldiers and women were crouching round them.

We were comfortable that night, as we had beds to lie upon; but I felt sure it would be for the last time, as it would be necessary to destroy much luggage, the men being too heavily laden.

All was at length still; the soldiers, who were tired, went to sleep, with the exception of the sentries, who were well on the alert.

As I lay on my bed, I thought of the morrow. I knew we should have a trying time, as the whole country would now be thoroughly organized against us. Our start from Masindi had taken them by surprise—thus we had not met with much resistance; but to-morrow would be a fighting day, and I made up my mind to leave the cattle to themselves, as it would be simply impossible to drive them.

The night passed without an attack.

On the following morning, 15th June, poor Howarti was evidently about to die, but the plucky fellow faintly said that he could ride a donkey if assisted. It was impossible to carry him as the path was too narrow for four people to walk beneath a stretcher. He was placed upon a donkey, and supported with difficulty by a man at his side.

I was obliged to pile upon the fire a number of things that we could not carry, including the large oaken stand of the astronomical telescope.

It was 7.30 A.M. before we started.

The troublesome cattle at once began to stray, and I immediately ordered them to be abandoned. I felt certain that in the event of a general attack they would have created great confusion, by probably rushing down the line and overturning the men.

It was the greatest relief to be rid of the animals: thus we marched on merrily at about two and a half miles an hour, through the usual narrow path amidst gigantic grass (now about nine feet high) and thick forest.

In about an hour and a half we arrived at a descent, towards a bottom in which there was a broad, open swamp, with a stream running through the centre.

The advance-guard was not more than a hundred yards from the bottom, and the line was descending the hill in close order, when a sudden uproar broke out, as though all the demons of hell were let loose. Yells, screams, drums, horns, whistles from many thousand concealed enemies, for an instant startled the troops! A tremendous rush in the grass gave notice of a general attack from an immensely powerful ambuscade. The officers did their duty.

Every load was upon the ground, and in a moment alternate files were facing to the right and left, kneeling just as the lances began to fly across the path. The bugles rang out "fire," and the fight commenced on our side.

I saw several lances pass within an inch or two of my wife's head; luckily we were kneeling on one knee. The file-firing was extremely good, and the sniders rattled without intermission. The grass was so dense, that simple buck-shot would be reduced to a very limited range, although excellent at close quarters. The servants quickly handed the elephant breechloaders, and a double shot to the right and left was followed by the loud explosion of the picrate of potash shells against some unseen objects, either men or trees.

A quick repetition of the picrate shells seemed to affect the spirit of the attack. I imagine that the extremely loud explosion of the shells in the midst, and perhaps also in the rear of the enemy, led them to suppose that they were attacked from behind.

It is difficult to say how long the attack continued, but a vast amount of ammunition was expended before the lances ceased to fly through the line, and the drums and horns were at length heard at a greater distance in the rear. The bugle at once sounded the "advance," and I marched the men forward, crossing the stream at the bottom, and gained the open, where we found ourselves in a kind of swampy field of about ten acres. "Ha!" exclaimed many of the soldiers, "if we could only get them on a clear space like this."

The men were mustered. Poor Howarti was dead, and they had left him in the grass by the roadside, as it was impossible to transport him.

The rear-guard had been hotly pressed, and the natives had rushed upon the path close to the sniders, which had punished them severely. Had we depended upon muzzle-loading muskets, the party would have been quickly destroyed; the sharp fire of the sniders at close quarters must have caused immense loss at the first onset.

I now determined to lighten the loads considerably. It was difficult to carry the angarebs, as the leas caught in the high grass. I spoke a few words to my men, who declared that they were not afraid of the natives if they were not so heavily laden.

We collected wood and made a fire, upon which I ordered everything to be burnt that was really cumbersome. The bedsteads were broken up; a case of good French cognac was committed to the flames; Lieutenant Baker's naval uniform, with box, &e.; the cocked hat frizzled up on the top of the bonfire.

The men were provided with raw hides, upon which they slept at night; these were now wet through and cumbersome: I therefore ordered them to be thrown into the high grass and abandoned.

The brandy bottles burst upon the fire. A sergeant of the "Forty Thieves," named Fadlullah, had been attending to the heap of burning materials, and I saw him stoop over the flames, as though intending to save one of the liquor bottles for himself. At this moment several burst and saturated his loose cotton trousers with blazing spirit. The man vainly endeavoured to extinguish the fire, and he danced wildly about, until I seized and threw him down in the swamp, and quickly drew the wet green grass over him and subdued the flames. He was severely burnt about the legs, from which the skin slipped off in large flakes.

I now had to doctor him, when every man's legs ought to have been in the best order. Fortunately I had a little oil (for the lamp), and the wounds were quickly dressed and bandaged with cotton wool and lint.

The force was now much relieved, as the loads had been lightened. During the operation of burning the supplies, the best shots of the "Forty Thieves" had been stationed to pick off any natives who attempted to spy our movements by ascending the lofty trees.

I now gave the order for the advance, and the march recommenced. In a few minutes we were once more buried in the gigantic grass jungle.

We had hardly entered the covert when the shouts and blowing of horns and beating of drums once more commenced. This was the signal to ambuscades in front that we were moving forward.

In the course of an hour's march, the rear bugle had sounded "halt" at least half a dozen times, as two of the donkeys were weakly, and could not be driven on without difficulty.

Again the rear bugle sounded "halt!" I immediately sent the sergeant of the bodyguard, Mohammed-el-Feel, to shoot the donkeys, and to throw their loads into the high grass. Two shots announced their end.

The bugle sounded "advance", and we at length travelled comfortably. The weather was fine: we rejoiced in the sun, as it dried our reeking clothes.

Suddenly the advance-guard opened fire! then the rear-guard was closed upon by a sudden rush of the enemy, and the whole line commenced file-firing into the thick covert.

I ordered the bugler to sound "forward," and "cease firing," as the men were getting a little wild.

One of "The Forty", Ali Goboor, had been wounded by a lance through the leg, but he managed to limp along.

We now began to understand the places at which we were sure to meet an ambuscade. Whenever we descended a slope towards a marshy bottom, there was certain to be a large force concealed behind the lofty reeds that grew in the swamp. I ordered the advance-guard to fire a few shots low down in the reels whenever they should approach these places. By this plan we generally induced the enemy to throw their spears before we were in the midst; in which case we opened a heavy fire into the grass, and marched straight forward.

The ambuscades had been carefully planned. A row of grass of perhaps two or three yards in thickness was left standing in its natural position along the path; behind this vegetable wall, the grass had been either cut down or torn up, so as to afford a clear space for the natives to take a good run when throwing their lances. They accordingly waited until we should enter the snare, and they calculated their opportunity for making a combined attack when they considered that our line of march was exactly opposite. Of course they could not see us through the thick screen of brass any more than we could distinguish them.

We were at an additional disadvantage, as we were always exposed to attacks from fresh enemies; the route was occupied throughout, thus they were not cowed by the defeats of every ambuscade in the rear.

Considering the great numbers of spears that had flown like flashes of light through the line, it was astonishing that we had not had more numerous casualties. Several men had been struck on their knapsacks, which had served as shields.

We at length came to an exceedingly awkward place, that I felt sure would be well occupied. Upon our right lay a row of rocky hills, to which we were marching parallel. We had to descend through forest to low ground. To reach this it was necessary to pass between numerous blocks of granite that completely commanded the path. Each block was about twenty or twenty-five feet high, and several much exceeded this height. The base was the usual high grass and forest.

I ordered the men not to fire unless they should see the enemy, and to take a good aim.

Presently, as we descended through the pass, the attack commenced. Two spears struck Colonel Abd-el-Kader, one in the fore-arm; the second ripped his tough leather gaiter, and glanced off.

The sniders were ready, as the enemy were obliged to show their heads above the rocks, and one fellow, who was exactly above us, either lost his nerve, or received a bullet, which allowed his lance to come rattling down the rocks as a complete failure. I ordered the bugler to continue to sound "forward" (Illah Reh), as it was advisable to push through this awkward place as quickly as possible.

Directly that we were out of the pass, I tied up Abd-el-Kader's arm, and we continued the march until we halted at 2.5 P.M., in a piece of open cultivated ground, where I determined to bivouac for the night.

I had resolved always to finish the day's journey by one march, as it would afford time for erecting a protection of thorns and branches of trees to prevent a sudden night attack.

Fortunately the weather was fine. Abd-el-Kader was now faint and weak from loss of blood. I attended to his wound, which was an ugly gash, and gave him a good dose of brandy, and advised him to go to sleep.

Lieutenant Baker and the other officers assisted in erecting the defence of thorns. All the wet clothes were spread out to dry in the sun, and everything was got ready for the night. I did not care for myself, but I was sorry for the hardship that my wife must endure, without a bed or tent. My men cut two forked poles, upon which they lashed a horizontal bar, which supported a camp-sheet to protect her from rain or dew. A pile of long green grass was laid on the ground beneath, upon which was stretched a mackintosh camp-sheet, and a good thick blanket.

We had been most fortunate in having only a loss of one killed and two wounded since we left Masindi.

My men had fired away an enormous amount of ammunition during the march, as they appeared to become more and more nervous as they advanced. Every thick clump of reeds that rose a few feet higher than the surrounding grass was supposed to conceal an enemy, and it was immediately raked by a hot fire from the advance-guard.

On 16th June, the night having passed quietly, we started at 6.30 A.M., and marched silently.

There was a curious feeling upon first waking in the morning, when we rose and buckled on the ammunition-belts. Every one was aware that his nerves must be upon the stretch, and that his finger must be ready for the trigger, from the commencement till the end of the march, to act against unseen enemies.

Upon arrival at a stream in a muddy bottom, we were immediately attacked by a strong force in ambuscade. Some of the enemy exposed themselves boldly, and rushed upon the soldiers just in front of the rear-guard. Several were shot by the sniders, but one fellow, with unusual pluck, speared a soldier whose musket had missed fire, through the chest. This poor fellow, thus mortally wounded, grappled with his assailant, and tugging the spear from his own wound, he drove it through the native's heart.

The rear bugle sounded "halt," while the knapsack and cartouche-belt were detached from the gallant soldier, whose body was left by the side of his enemy.

We marched until 10.15 A.M., having fought nearly the whole way, and expended a frightful amount of ammunition. We had now arrived at our old halting-place, Chorobeze twenty-seven miles from Masindi.

My men had become so extravagant of their cartridges that I was forced to interfere. If this nervousness should continue, we should be soon left without ammunition, and every soul would be massacred.

I therefore mustered the troops, and examined all their pouches. Some of the advance-guard had fired away eighty rounds each, only during the morning's march!

Many had fired fifty rounds! The muskets had not used so many, owing to the greater difficulty of loading, but they also had been frightfully extravagant.

The men had come to the conclusion that the only plan of marching in safety through the high grass, which was full of unseen enemies, was to constitute themselves into a sort of infernal machine, that would be perpetually emitting fire and bullets on all sides.

This was all very well with an unlimited supply of ammunition, but we had no idea of what might still be in store for us. We were now slightly more than fifty miles from Foweera. Fortunately, in our journey from the river to Masindi, I had timed every march within five minutes, and I had all particulars in my note-book; therefore I could guess the position pretty closely during the morning's advance.

Having mustered all the men, I turned out all the ammunition from their pouches. The cartridges were counted.

I examined all the reserve ammunition.

The total, including that from the men's cartouche-boxes, was cartridges for snider rifles 4,540 and cartridges for muskets 4,330, making a total of 8,870 rounds.

I now addressed the men, and abused them most forcibly, calling them "old women," and several other uncomplimentary epithets for soldiers. I divided among them forty rounds each, and I swore solemnly by their prophet, "that I would not give them another cartridge from this spot (Chorobeze) until we should reach Major Abdullah's detachment at Fatiko."

I explained that if any man should fire away his ammunition, he should continue the march with an empty pouch—Wah Illahi! Illahi !

I gave the most positive command, that in future not a shot should be fired without orders, unless spears actually were thrown; on which occasions the troops would fire a few shots exactly into the spot from which the weapons had arrived; but on no account was a bullet to be fired at random.

I dismissed the men with this warning, and set them to work to construct a night defence as usual.

It was a most fortunate peculiarity of the Unyoros that they did not attack at night-time. This was a grievous fault upon their side. If they had surrounded us every night, they would have kept us awake, and not only would have tired the men out, but they would have caused a useless expenditure of ammunition.

On 17th of June, we started at 6.15 A.M., with the intention of reaching Koki. I recognized several villages, but we passed them without halting. We at length arrived at a fine, broad route, that was sufficiently wide for a dog-cart. This had evidently been recently prepared, and there could be no doubt that it was arranged as a snare that would lead us into some powerful ambuscade. At the same time, the compass showed that the broad path led in the right direction.

I halted the force, and went to the front to examine the road. There was no other path. It was therefore incumbent upon us to keep to the broad route, although we knew that it must lead us to a trap prepared for our destruction.

It was like walking upon ice that was known to be unsafe. We advanced.

For about half an hour we marched without opposition. This was a longer interval than usual to be free from an attack. At length we arrived where the broad road suddenly terminated. The advance-guard halted.

We searched for a path, and at length discovered the original narrow route a few paces to our left.

This had been purposely concealed by grass and boughs.

We had hardly entered this path when we were suddenly attacked. A horsekeeper was wounded by a spear, which passed through his leg, behind the knee, and cut the sinew, thus rendering him helpless. He was immediately placed upon a donkey. The unfortunate lad who led the horse a few paces before me now uttered a wild shriek, as a spear passed completely through his body. The poor boy crept to me on his hands and knees, and asked, "Shall I creep into the grass, Pacha?-where shall I go?" He had not another minute to live.

A spear struck another horsekeeper on the hip, and the soft iron point turned up against the bone in a curve like a fish-hook.

A sharp fire dispersed the enemy, who retired to a distance, yelling and blowing their whistles. The wounded horsekeeper could manage to walk forward.

There is a peculiar bird in the forests of Unyoro which utters a shrill cry, with these notes.

The natives imitate this cry with their whistles of antelope's horn. I had noticed that previous to an attack from an ambuscade, we had always heard the call of this bird.

My Baris declared that the bird warned us of the danger, and cried, "Co-co-me! Co-co-me!" which in their language means, "Look out! look out!"

My soldiers said that the birds exclaimed, "Shat-mo-koor! Shat-mo-koor!" which is the order, "Make ready;" They accordingly always brought their rifles on full cock when they heard the signal.

There was something puzzling this day respecting the distance. According to my calculation, we should leave reached Koki. Still we marched on through high forest and the interminable grass. My wife was dreadfully fatigued. The constant marching in wet boots, which became filled with sand when crossing the small streams and wading through muddy hollows, had made her terribly foot-sore. She walked on with pain and difficulty. I was sure that we had passed the village of Koki, which was surrounded by much open ground and cultivation; and I now felt certain that the broad road, which had been constructed to mislead us, had taken us by the rear of Koki, which we had thus over-shot.

We were marching forward in perfect silence, when I heard a bird cry "Co-co-me! Co-co-me"!

That instant the spears came among us, and the rifles replied as quick as lightning!

The bugle of the advance-guard sounded "halt". I never liked to hear that order, as something must have gone wrong.

I immediately walked forward, and found that Lieutenant Mohammed Mustapha had been wounded. The spear had struck him just behind the shoulderjoint of the left arm, and had passed over the blade-bone and spine previous to making its exit by the right arm. This was a very nasty wound, and he was bleeding profusely. I made a couple of pads, and, placing one upon each hole, we bandaged him tightly.

I now went up to my poor old horse, "Zafteer". The unfortunate animal was carrying a heavy load, and a large hunting spear had struck him just behind the saddle. The weapon was so sharp and heavy, and had been thrown with such force, that it had penetrated a double blanket, and had not only passed clean through the horse's body, but had also cut through a blanket-fold upon the other side.

A large portion of the bowels protruded, and were hanging a foot below the horse's belly. The intestines were divided, thus death was certain.

As the old horse could still walk, and did not know its own danger, I ordered the advance. I intended to halt at the first convenient point.

In about a quarter of an hour we saw increased light in the distance, and we presently emerged upon a large open vale surrounded by forest. This cheerful space extended over about ten acres, in the centre of which was a well of good water, about fourteen feet deep, and so wide that a man could descend by steps hewn out of the gravel. This was a grand place for the halt.

My first duty was to remove the load, together with the saddle, from my good old horse. I returned the bowels, and having placed a strong pad over the wounds, I passed the roller round his body, and buckled it tight over the pads.

This operation was hardly completed, when a severe shivering fit seized the poor animal, and he fell to the ground to die.

With great sorrow I placed my pistol to the forehead of the faithful old Zafteer, and he died, having carried and laid down his load, together with his life, at the end of the day's march.

I was much distressed at this loss. It seemed that I was to lose all my best and most faithful followers—the good Monsoor, whom to this hour I regret as a brother; the ever-ready and true Howarti; Ferritch Baggara; the unfortunate Ramadan, besides others who were very valuable; and now my old horse was gone.

We slept that night by his body, and warmed ourselves by a fire that consumed his load—for there was no one to carry it. My despatch-box helped to cook our scanty dinner. We had marched sixteen miles.

My troops had behaved remarkably well. The scolding that I had given them had produced a good effect. Very little ammunition had been expended, and the firing had been exceedingly steady.

Although we had not been attacked at night, I never omitted the precaution of a defence of strong thorns and branches of trees.

Had this march through a frightful route of forest and high grass been made in the Bari tribe, we should not have had a night's rest.

We started at 6 A.M., with sunrise, on 18th June. The weather had been fine since the first day of soaking rain on the start from Masindi: we were thankful for this blessing, as there was no shelter for any one.

It would be fatiguing to narrate the incidents of the continual ambuscades. Every day we were attacked, and the enemy was repulsed many times. "Co-co-me! Co-co-me!" was now well understood by the troops; and although we had men wounded, the enemy invariably got the worst of the encounter. Up to the present we had been most fortunate in bringing on all our people, but I was anxious lest some should receive wounds that would actually incapacitate them from marching. Should a man be killed outright, how much soever he might be regretted, still there was an end of him; but there was no end to the difficulty of transporting wounded men in our helpless condition, without carriers.

We had rather hot work during this day's march, and four soldiers had been wounded by spears.

My wife was dreadfully tired, and sometimes the pace was too severe for her. At length she was so fatigued that she declared she must rest, if only for a few minutes. It was impossible to halt in the thick jungle and grass; therefore, as I had observed a large grove of plantains on the crest of the hill before us, I gave her my hand to assist in the ascent, and we shortly entered the dark forest of bananas, which was, as usual, clear and free from grass.

All the women were glad to rest, as the poor things were carrying heavy loads. We halted in the midst of the plantains, and every one sat down, except the numerous sentries whom I placed in concealment in various positions. I fully expected that natives might be following us, in the hopes of picking up the load of some wounded man that had been left behind.

Not a word was spoken, or even whispered.

My men were very bloodthirsty. They had been atrociously treated by the natives, and had suffered much. They longed to get their enemies fairly before them, and the "Forty Thieves" were now keenly looking out for the approach of the wily Unyoros.

We heard distant voices; they were coming nearer. A sharp clicking of locks might be heard, as the men got ready.

All Sadik was one of my best shots in "The Forty." I now saw him taking a steady aim. Saat Choush, who was the champion shot of "The Forty", had also raised his rifle, and almost immediately several shots were fired, and the troops rushed forward! Two natives had been knocked over, and some of the men returned, dragging in a body by the heels.

I now scoured the immediate neighbourhood, and discovered a quantity of dhurra that was just ripened. This was immediately gathered as a great prize.

During this interval, my men had been engaged in a most barbarous ceremony, that perfectly disgusted me.

These superstitious people had an idea, that every bullet they might fire would kill an Unyoro, if they could only devour a portion of their enemy's liver.

They had accordingly cut out the liver of the dead man, and having divided it among them, they positively HAD EATEN IT—raw! They had then cut the body into pieces with their sword-bayonets, and had disposed them upon the limbs of various bushes that overhung the path, as a warning to any Unyoros who should attempt to follow us.

I would not have believed that my "Forty Thieves", whom I had considered to be nearly civilized, could have committed such a barbarity. The truth was, that in the high grass they could not see the effect of their shots; therefore they imagined that the horrid rite of eating an enemy's liver would give a fatal direction to a random bullet.

We marched, and having had several encounters with the enemy in jungle, if possible worse than before, we halted at Kaseega.

One of my best men, Serroor, had a narrow escape; a lance went through his neck, almost grazing the jugular vein.

On 19th June, we marched at 6.5 A.M. This was one of the worst journeys, as the ravines were numerous, and the forest dark and tangled. It was difficult for our solitary horse (Jamoos) to carry his load, as it became continually hooked in the hanging loops of the wild vines. We were quickly attacked by various ambuscades, in one of which my wife suffered the loss of a great favourite. This was poor little Jarvah, who went by the name of the "fat boy." Two spears struck the unhappy lad at the same moment one of which pinned both his legs as though upon a spit; the other went through his body. This loss completely upset my wife, as the unfortunate Jarvah had upon several occasions endeavoured to protect her from danger. He was killed only a few paces behind her.

In one of the ambuscades, just as the enemy had been repulsed, Faddul, the strongest man in the "Forty Thieves", who was close to me, carrying his knapsack on his back, his rifle slung across his shoulders, and a box of 500 snider cartridges (64 lbs.) upon his head, walked up to me during the halt and reported himself as badly wounded.

A spear had struck him obliquely in the posterior, and had taken a direction towards the groin. The nian was literally bathed in blood, which ran from him in such a stream that a large pool was formed at his feet as he stood before me.

The instant that the box of snider ammunition was taken from his head, he fell apparently lifeless to the ground.

I thought that he had bled to death.

His rifle and knapsack were removed, and I examined his pulse and heart! I could not feel any movement. All I could do was to pour some brandy very slowly down his throat, and to leave him on the side of the path as another good man lost to the expedition.

We marched forward, and in about ten minutes we arrived at an open field of sweet potatoes. The change from dark jungle and dense grasses of giant height to the fresh and clear space cannot be understood, unless by those who experienced the difficulties of the march.

I halted the advance-guard in the centre of the open field, and waited for the rear to close up.

As it arrived, I saw a man staggering forward, supported by two soldiers. Upon nearer approach, I recognized my strong friend, Faddul, thus risen front the dead! The brandy had revived him sufficiently to show some signs of life, and the rear-guard had thus brought him along with them. We laid him down to rest beneath a tree that grew in the middle of the cultivation.

We were now in a sad difficulty. There were numerous roads, or rather very narrow paths, which converged from all quarters upon this potato ground. No one knew the direction. The Baris were completely at fault. The farther the people explored the immediate neighbourhood, the more helpless they became.

This was a serious matter. Up to the present time we had been most fortunate in keeping to the right path.

I now called my renowned pathfinder, Abdullah, of "The Forty".

Abdullah made a survey of the surrounding tracks, and then returned to me with the news that he had discovered the route. This he immediately pointed out.

A general exclamation of derision from the officers and many of the men was the only reward Abdullah received for his important discovery, as his path was in quite an opposite direction to the route they had anticipated.

The compass corroborated Abdullah's road, but before I adopted it, I asked him why he declared so positively that he knew the way? He replied, that when on the march from Foweera, he had observed a peculiarly-shaped tree, upon which was fastened a native cojoor, or spell. That tree was on rising ground above a ravine, and he could now show me both the ravine and the magic tree.

I accompanied him to the spot, and certainly the tree was there, with some pieces of ragged bark-cloth and some grass tied to the stem. I had often seen talismans that were fastened to the trees, and I suggested to Abdullah that there were many of them along the road. He was so confident in accepting every responsibility as guide, that I followed him without hesitation, and the march continued. The wounded Faddul was supported as before.

In a short time I myself recognized the path as being very near to Kisoona, which place we suddenly entered after a march of thirty-five minutes from the potato field. The advance-guard fired a volley at some natives, who rushed into the grass upon our unexpected arrival.

We were now in open ground, with good native huts for shelter, and a large extent of cultivation, where an unlimited supply of potatoes could be obtained.

As the rear-guard closed up, I mustered all officers and men. Having spoken a few words of encouragement, and complimented them upon their extreme steadiness since I had lectured them at Chorobeze, I congratulated them upon having advanced so far, under God's protection, through such numberless enemies, with comparatively so little loss. We were now only twenty-one miles from Foweera, and we knew the road. The news of our arrival would almost immediately reach Rionga, and I should fortify this spot and remain here for some days to allow my wounded to recover their strength. During this time all hands would be employed in preparing potatoes for store, by cutting them in slices and drying them in the sun.

I now ordered the band to strike up with the greatest vigour, to show the natives who might be within hearing, that we were in the best of spirits.

My officers and men were all delighted, and overwhelmed me with compliments. I only replied by begging them always to trust in God, and to do their duty.

I immediately started off a party to dig potatoes, while Lieutenant Baker and myself, with a number of men, slashed down with sabres the extensive grove of plantain trees, so as to have a perfectly clear space around the camp.

We made a strong defence at Kisoona, and the rest of several days was invigorating to the wounded men, and enabled my wife's feet to recover sufficiently to continue the march on the 23rd June.

I had arranged that the drums and bugles should sound the morning call at 5 A.M. daily, as though in a permanent camp. This was to assist me in a plan for avoiding ambuscades on the day of marching from Kisoona.

On the 22nd I gave orders that every man should be ready to march punctually at 5 A.M., the instant that the morning call should have sounded.

The natives, hearing the call to which they had been daily accustomed, would have no suspicion of our intended departure; therefore they would not have sufficient time to organize and man their ambuscades.

On the morning of the 23rd June we silently evacuated the camp in the semi-darkness, the instant that the drums and bugles had ceased, and thus obtained an excellent start that saved us much trouble. The attacks later in the day were feebler than usual, and after a march of fourteen miles we arrived at a well of water at 2.5 P.M., at which spot we halted for the night. During this march we had only one man wounded.

We were now within Rionga's country, but I nevertheless made a defence of thorns and branches of trees for the night.

On 24th June we started at 6.5 A.M., and after a march of seven miles, during which we were undisturbed, we arrived at the old camp of Suleiman's company at Foweera on the Victoria Nile, where we had expected to find shelter and good houses.

Everything had been destroyed by fire! Nothing remained but blackened ashes.



CHAPTER XXIII

BUILD A STOCKADE AT FOWEERA.

MY losses from the 8th June to the 24th had been ten killed and eleven wounded. Every officer and soldier had thoroughly done his duty, having displayed admirable coolness and courage upon many trying occasions. None but black troops could have endured the march of about eighty miles with heavy weights upon their heads, in addition to their usual accoutrements.

I at once set to work to build a new station, and with the old wood that had formed the fence of Suleiman's zareeba, I commenced a defensive arrangement.

There was very little heavy timber that was adapted for a stockade. I therefore formed a protection by sinking deep in the ground, at intervals of three feet, two strong posts about seven feet above the surface. These upright timbers, standing opposite to each other at a distance of about ten inches, were filled with long poles laid one over the other horizontally. At two corners of the square fort were flanking works of the same construction, which would sweep each face of the defence.

In a few days my men had completed a strong and neat stockade around a number of small temporary huts which formed our new station.

Having thus housed my troops, it was necessary to prepare for the future. I fully expected that Major Abdullah had fallen into the snare prepared for him by Kabba Rega: thus I should have no other force to rely upon, except the few men that now formed my small but tough little party. If so terrible a calamity should have occurred as the destruction of Abdullah's detachment, I should not only have lost my men, but I should become short of ammunition; as my stores and arms would have fallen into the hands of the enemy. This doubt caused me much grave anxiety.

It was strange that we had not received some communication from Rionga, whose island was only fifteen or sixteen miles above stream from Foweera. Our side of the river appeared to be quite uninhabited, and simply consisted of the interminable groves of bananas, that had belonged to the inhabitants at a time when the district had been thickly populated.

The Victoria Nile, opposite the Foweera station, was about 500 yards wide. At this season the river was full. The huts that we had erected on the north side, upon our arrival from Fatiko, had been destroyed by the natives. This did not look as though much friendship existed.

Upon hearing our drums and bugles on the day of our arrival at Foweera, a few natives had come to the high rock opposite, and had commenced, bawling conversation, and that was only slightly understood by one of our women and Molodi the Madi.

Molodi knew Rionga, as he had visited him at a former time, together with a party of Abou Saood's people. His very slight knowledge of the language was sufficient to explain to the natives across the river that I wished to communicate with Rionga.

The people on the north happened to belong to Kabba Rega, and they were enemies of Rionga; thus we were addressing the wrong parties.

It was highly necessary to make some arrangements for crossing the river. There are no canoes on this side, and it would be dangerous to trust to rafts, as there were waterfalls about three or four hundred yards below upon our left. I determined to construct boats.

We felled three large dolape palms (Borassus ethriopicus), which were the only trees of that species in this neighbourhood. These palms are well adapted for canoes, as the bark, or rather the outside wood, is intensely hard for about an inch and a half, beneath which the tree is simply a pithy, stringy substance, that can be rapidly scooped out.

Two of the logs, when shaped, were each twenty-six feet in length; the third was smaller.

Throughout the march from Masindi we had managed to carry an adze, a hammer, and a cold chisel. The adze now came into play, together with the Bandy little axes of the "Forty Thieves".

Among my troops was a Baggara Arab, who was a "canoe-builder". This was one of the best men of "The Forty", and it was now for the first time that I heard of his abilities as a boat-builder. This man, Said Bagara, has since accompanied Colonel Long with great fidelity to the court of King M'Tese.

The men took an immense interest in the work; but as too many volunteers might interfere with the principal shipwright, I sent them all into the forest to collect plantains. I gave orders that every man should prepare 14 lbs of plantain flour for the journey, in case it should be necessary to march to Fatiko.

The canoes progressed, and a slice of about a foot wide having been taken off horizontally from stem to stern, the soft inside was scooped out with an adze, and with lance-heads bent to form a half circle.

In a few days the logs were neatly hollowed, and were then carried down and launched upon the river. The long, narrow canoes would have been very dangerous without outriggers, therefore I determined to adopt the plan that I had seen in Ceylon; and as Lieutenant Baker well represented the omniscience of naval men in everything that concerns boats, nautical stratagems, incomprehensible forms of knots, rigging, &e., &e., I left all the details of the canoes to his charge. In a short time we possessed three admirable vessels that it was quite impossible to upset. I now required a few rafts for the transport of baggage, as it would be awkward to cross the river by small sections should an enemy oppose our landing on the precipitous bank on the opposite shore. I therefore arranged that we should cross in two journeys. The party now consisted of 97 soldiers including officers, 5 natives, 3 sailors, 51 women, boys, and servants, and 3 Europeans; total, 158 persons.

There was no ambatch wood, but I thought we might form rafts by cutting and then drying in the sun the long tough stems of the papyrus rush. These, if lashed together in small bundles, could be shaped into rafts similar to those used by the Shillook tribe.

Lieutenant Baker took the three sailors and a few intelligent soldiers, and set to work.

The 29th June had arrived without any news of Rionga. The country appeared to be quite devoid of inhabitants on the south banks, neither did the natives show themselves on the north. We were masters of the situation, but there was an uncomfortable feeling of loneliness in our position of outcasts. We were very hungry, as we had not tasted animal food since the 14th inst.; there was no game, neither were there any doves or birds of any kind, except occasional vultures, which, after sitting upon a dead tree and regarding us for some time, went off with a low opinion of our respectability.

We lived upon boiled plantains and red peppers, together with various wild plants that are wholesome, but not nice, when boiled as spinach. Unfortunately, our small supply of salt was exhausted, therefore we were obliged to burn grass and make potash from the ashes as a substitute.

We had a small quantity of brandy, but we reserved this in case of illness or other necessity.

My men generally made two journeys daily, together with the women, to collect green plantains, and they immediately commenced peeling and drying them in the sun upon their return to camp.

On the evening of the 29th they came home in great spirits, having captured a prisoner. They had tied his arms cruelly behind his lack, and had led him to camp by a cord secured to his neck.

This man had been discovered in company with two others who had escaped to the other side of the river in a canoe.

I ordered his arms to be released, and cross-examined him, Molodi acting as interpreter.

The prisoner seemed quite confident upon seeing my wife and myself. "Don't you remember me" he exclaimed; "was it not I who many years ago carried the travelling-bag for the lady on your journey to Fatiko? Was it not you that shot the antelopes on the march, and gave me meat to eat when I was hungry?"

Here was an extraordinary piece of good luck! My men had actually captured an old friend in the thickets, who had formerly marched with us in the reign of Kamrasi!

This fellow now gave us the news. Rionga wished to see me, but he had been so cheated and deceived by the slave-hunting companies of Abou Saood, that he was afraid to trust himself among us; he was friendly disposed, but he did not know my intentions concerning himself.

The prisoner declared that the treachery of Kabba Rega had been planned from the beginning. The 300 natives who had accompanied my party from Masindi, with the post to Fatiko, had attacked and killed some of my men, but he knew no particulars; only that they had not gone on to Fatiko with my people. This was a great relief to my anxiety, as in that case Abdullah must be safe with his detachment. I ordered the prisoner to be retained, but to be well treated.

We had rain nearly every day.

At daybreak on 1st July, after a heavy night's rain, a voice from the high wet grass, about a hundred yards distant, cried out to the sentries in Arabic, "Don't fire! I am a messenger from Rionga to Malegge!" (my former nick-name).

The man, cold and shivering, was brought before me. He had travelled by canoe during the night, but had been afraid to approach the sentries until daylight.

Being assured of my good-will, he informed me that a nephew of Rionga's was in the grass waiting for my reply. He immediately ran out, and soon returned to the camp with his companion.

As these people spoke Arabic, I now explained the whole affair, and assured them of my repeated refusal to attack Rionga, when I had been pressed to do so both by Kamrasi, and by his son, Kabba Rega. There could be little doubt that, had I allied with him against Rionga, the battle of Masindi would never have taken place; and the lives of some of my best men would have been spared.

I would now depose Kabba Rega, and appoint Rionga as the vakeel or representative of the Egyptian government, provided he would swear allegiance.

I sent a present to Rionga of entire pieces of Turkey red cloth, blue twill, and four handkerchiefs; at the same time I explained that we were very hungry, and required cattle and corn.

Before the messengers returned, I inspected the troops, who marched round the camp in their best scarlet uniforms, to the sound of the drums and bugles. This exhibition appeared to create quite an impression on Rionga's people, who would report us fit for service on their return to their chief.

Thirty of the men were suffering from ulcerated legs, caused by the sharp, poisonous edges of the high grass.

In a couple of days, two large canoes arrived from Rionga with presents of some corn, sweet potatoes, and a cow and sheep. We killed the beef immediately, as we were ravenously hungry.

On 16th July, we started, in nine canoes that had been supplied by Rionga, to visit him at his station. The troops marched by land on the south bank.

After paddling for about fifteen miles along the grand Victoria Nile, which in the narrowest part was at least 300 yards wide, we arrived at 5 P.M. at a desolate spot, exactly opposite to the tail of the large island upon which Rionga resided.

Nothing had been prepared for our reception, therefore we landed in the forest, and my men set to work to collect firewood for the night. The troops who had marched overland had not arrived. Fortunately we had some flour and a bottle of curry-powder; therefore we dined off dhurra-porridge and curry, and lay down on our camp-sheets to sleep.

This was a thorough negro welcome; nothing to eat!

The next morning, at about 7 A.M., the troops with Colonel Abd-el-Kader arrived; they had suffered much from high grass and thorns, as they had been obliged to break their way through the jungle, in the total absence of a path.

A number of Rionga's natives now arrived to assist in making our camp. All hands set vigorously to work building huts, in an excellent position that I had selected on the river's bank.

On 18th July, messengers came early to inform me that Rionga would arrive that morning to give me a warm welcome.

I had already sent him, from Foweera, a beautiful cloak of gold brocade, together with a new tarboosh and sky-blue turban.

At about 8 A.M., drums were beating on the island, and horns were blowing in all directions; these were signals that the renowned Rionga was on the move. We shortly perceived numerous large canoes pushing off from the island, and making for our landing place, which I had already cleared.

A cow, sheep, and a load of corn were first delivered as a present. These were followed by Rionga, and a large staff of his principal headmen.

He was a handsome man of about fifty, with exceedingly good manners. He had none of the stiffness of Kamrasi, nor the gauche bearing of Kabba Rega, but he was perfectly at his ease. He at once thanked me for the handsome suit in which he was dressed, without which, he assured me that it would have been difficult for him to have appeared before me in a becoming manner. The troops were drawn out to receive him, and the conversation at once turned upon Kabba Rega and Abou Saood.

He had an intimate knowledge of all that had taken place; which had been reported to him by his spies; and he declared that Abou Saood had long ago arranged a plan with Kabba Rega for our destruction should we arrive from Gondokoro.

Rionga was well aware how often I had refused to attack him, and he confessed that I had been his saviour by the arrest of Suleiman, who would have joined the forces of Kabba Rega to have crushed him.

I took a great fancy to Rionga, as he was so perfectly free and easy in his manner. He told me several anecdotes of the escapes he had had from snares laid for him by Kamrasi; and he seemed quite rejoiced that I, who had always declined to molest him before I had known him personally, should now have taken him by the hand.

He declared that he would always remain the faithful representative of the Khedive's government, but at the same time we must IMMEDIATELY EXCHANGE BLOOD; without which ceremony, the people would not rise in his favour. He said, "If the natives of this country, and also the Langgos and the Umiros, shall hear that I have exchanged blood with the Pacha, they will have thorough confidence, as they will know that he will always be true to me, and I to him; but without this irrevocable contract, they will always suspect some intrigue, either upon your side or mine."

Rionga proposed that we should drink blood on the following morning, as no time should be lost; he revelled with childish delight in the despair that would seize Kabba Rega and his chiefs when they should hear the news that the Pacha, and his friend Rionga had exchanged blood.

The preparation for the ceremony was to commence that evening. We were to drink a large quantity of plaintain cider. "Not such stuff as Kabba Rega gave you," exclaimed Rionga; "but a drink such as a friend will partake with you." I was not to eat anything on the morrow, until the sun should be in a certain position in the heavens, at which time he would call upon me. I was to exchange blood with Rionga; Colonel Abd-el-Kader and Lieutenant Baker were to go through the same interesting ceremony with his minister and his son at the same time.

I recommended him at once to summon the chiefs of the Langgos and the Umiros, as I should wish to secure their alliance and allegiance without loss of time.

Many large jars of the best quality of plantain cider were now brought from the island.

The night passed in nothing but singing and dancing as Rionga gave an entertainment in honour of our arrival, and as a preliminary to the ceremony of exchanging blood on the following morning.

At about 9 A.M. the unpleasant task was to be performed. Rionga arrived and begged me to accompany him within a tent, together with Lieutenant Baker, Colonel Abd-el-Kader, Karmissua, and Majobi.

Several of his first-class people were admitted as witnesses; these were Inqui, Kimata, Ulendu, Singoma, Kibera, and some others.

Fortunately I had a small lancet in the handle of my knife; therefore I made a slight incision on my left fore-arm, from which a few drops of blood flowed. Rionga immediately seized my arm and greedily sucked the scratch. I had to perform upon his arm, and I took care to make so slight a puncture that only a drop of blood appeared; this was quite enough for my share of the ceremony. We were now friends for ever, and no suspicion of foul play could possibly be entertained. Lieutenant Baker and Abd-el-Kader went through the same operation with their respective partners, and cemented an indissoluble friendship.

It was rather a disgusting performance, but at the same time it was absolutely necessary for the success of the expedition. I had now really secured a trustworthy man, who would act as my vakeel.

When we emerged from the hut, a minstrel appeared, who played upon a species of harp, and sang praises of myself and Rionga; and, of course, abused Kabba Rega with true poetical licence.

I gave the minstrel a considerable present of beads, and he went away rejoicing, singing and twanging his instrument to the discomfiture of all our enemies.

It was fortunate that I had been able to carry so much as 300 lbs. of beads. The soldiers could now purchase fish and potatoes.

On the 23rd July, two great sheiks were introduced by Rionga: "Gonah", the chief of a Langgo district, and "Okooloo", a renowned warrior of the Umiros.

The naked body of Okooloo was covered with small tattoo marks, each of which I was assured represented a victim to his lance.

If he had really killed half that enormous number of men, he must have considerably reduced the population, and he could have been doing little else during his life. Samson's feat of killing 1,000 men was hardly to be compared to the slaughter that had been accomplished by Okooloo.

The prospect of a general attack upon Kabba Rega with fire and lance was delightful to the taste of this warlike old chief, who would, at the end of the campaign, have no more room on his own skin, and would have to keep the list of his game either upon the back of a son or a favourite wife.

I soon made friends with these tribes. A few red and yellow handkerchiefs, and two or three pounds of red and white beads, were sufficient to gain their alliance. I proclaimed Rionga as the vakeel of the government, who would rule Unyoro in the place of Kabba Rega, deposed. Rionga was accepted by acclamation; and if the young traitor, Kabba Rega, could have witnessed this little projet de traite, he would have shivered in his shoes.

Rionga was a general favourite, and the natives were sincerely glad to see him at length supported by the government. Throughout his life he had striven bravely against every species of treachery and persecution; the day of his revenge had arrived.

I did not wish to overrun Unyoro until the grass should be fit to burn; this would not be until the end of November.

I therefore arranged that I would leave Abd-el-Kader with sixty-five men in a powerful stockade that I had constructed on the edge of the river in this spot, N. lat. 2 degrees 6' 17", to support Rionga, and to organize the native forces, while I would take forty men (sniders) and march to Fatiko, to inquire into all that had happened during my absence. It would be necessary to form a corps of irregulars under the command of Wat-el-Mek, which I should immediately send to occupy Unyoro.

Rionga told me that he should attack M'rooli in company with the Langgos and Umiros, who would quickly overrun the country now that Kabba Rega was unsupported by the slave-hunters.

He at once collected fifty natives to carry our loads to Fatiko.

On 27th July, having left all beads, &c., with Colonel Abd-el-Kader for the purchase of provisions, we took a cordial leave of Rionga, and started, in six canoes, at 12.30 P.M.; paddling down the stream, we arrived at our deserted zareeba at 3.12 P.M. We found the camp quite undisturbed; no one appeared to have entered it since we had left it some days ago. The palm outrigger canoes were lying in the same spot, secured to the rushes; and all that had belonged to us was rigidly respected.

Rionga had given us a sheep to eat during our march of seventy-nine miles from Foweera to Fatiko. This did not seem very generous, but his cattle had been mostly carried off by the slave-hunters under Suleiman.

Fortunately, just as we entered our old station, I shot a guinea-fowl, which made a good curry, and saved our store of dried fish for the uninhabited wilderness before us.

The best fish (as I before mentioned in "The Albert N'yanza") is the Lepidosiren annectens, and this fat and delicate meat is excellent when smoked and dried.

We slept in our old camp, and early on the following morning we prepared to cross the river.

Rionga's people did not quite trust the inhabitants on the other side; I accordingly sent a strong party of rifles across first to occupy the high rocky landing-place.

On the return of the canoes, we were just preparing to cross with the remainder of the party, when I observed eight natives walking very fast along the forest-covered cliff on the other side. We immediately gave the alarm to our men who occupied the rocks. The telescope now discovered that the arrangement of the hair of these natives was the fashion of Shooli and Fatiko.

The eight strangers, who had not before observed us, now halted in astonishment, and presently they shouted in good Arabic—

"Are you the Pacha's soldiers? We are sent by Abdullah to look for the Pacha!"

This was great good fortune; then Abdullah was alive, and I hoped my detachment was all right!

We crossed the broad river, and upon close arrival, we discovered that two of the messengers were well known to us, one of whom was Iarro, the interpreter of the great sheik, Rot Jarma.

The first gleam of pleasure with which I had welcomed these messengers quickly changed to considerable anxiety.

I was now informed that the attempt to destroy us by poison, and subsequently by a treacherous attack at Masindi, was mainly due to the intrigues of Abou Saood, who had originally advised Kabba Rega to resist me should I arrive in his country. This traitor Abou Saood had considered that we should be certainly massacred when once in the heart of Unyoro. He had therefore assumed a despotic command of Fatiko and all the neighbouring countries shortly after my departure; and he had given orders ' to the natives and to the sheik, Rot Jarma, that "no supplies of corn should be provided for Major Abdullah's troops."

Rot Jarma had been faithful to the government, and his people had carried corn to Major Abdullah. Abou Saood had therefore ordered his men to attack Rot Jarma. They had accordingly surprised him while believing in the protection of the government, and had captured his cattle, together with a number of slaves. In that attack the brigands had lost five men, whose guns had been subsequently taken to Kabba Rega for sale by the natives we had seen at Masindi.

Abou Saood then, enraged at the loss of five men, together with their guns, had sent for Wat-el-Mek from Faloro, and had given him the command above the well-known Ali Hussein, with orders to carry fire and sword through the country.

Major Abdullah had vainly expostulated. Abou Saood had personally threatened him; and Ali Hussein and an officer named Lazim, with some others, had gone armed into the government camp, and had actually seized natives who had taken refuge with Abdullah, from whose house they were thus dragged by force in defiance of authority.

When the news arrived from Foweera that I had punished Suleiman for the murder of the prisoner, both Abou Saood and his people had declared, that they "would secure Major Abdullah in a forked pole, or sheba, and treat hiin in a similar manner." They had also threatened to attack the government camp.

Major Abdullah had written to me at Masindi requesting instructions; he had intrusted the letter to a native of Faieera. This man had most unfortunately arrived at Masindi late in the evening upon which the troops had been poisoned. On the following morning he was a witness to the murder of poor Monsoor and Ferritch Bagara; and when the general action commenced, he climbed up a tree at no great distance from the station, and cried out that "he was the bearer of a letter from Abdullah."

The bullets whizzed so thickly about him that he descended from his post, and then, being alarmed lest he might be killed by the natives should his mission be discovered, he had run away as fast as possible, and returned 160 miles to Fatiko. Thus I never received Major Abdullah's letter.

The letter-carrier having seen our handful of men surrounded by many thousands of the enemy in Masindi, and knowing that the perfect organization of Unyoro would bring countless enemies upon us, who would occupy the routes by ambuscades, had considered our position hopeless.

The report was spread "that we were all destroyed:" thus Abou Saood was delighted.

Some days later, my party arrived at Fatiko that had left Masindi on the 23rd May with the post, together with the prisoner Suleiman.

These people had suffered terribly, and had lost eleven men killed, exclusive of one who had died on the way from fatigue.

The treacherous plan arranged by Kabba Rega had failed, and the natives had attacked them before the time appointed. This will be described hereafter.

Suleiman was no longer a prisoner, but he commanded the Fabbo station for Abou Saood.

Wat-el-Mek had received my letter, and he wished to serve the government; but Abou Saood had prevented him; and now that I was supposed to be dead, it would be impossible.

This man, Wat-el-Mek, had nevertheless behaved well, as he had immediately demanded 100 men from Abou Saood, and fifty men from Abdullah, in order to march to Unyoro, join Rionga, and with a native army he would have searched for us throughout the country.

Abou Saood had refused to give the 100 men, therefore we had been left to our fate.

The result of the story was that I must hurry on to Fatiko; Rot Jarma had sent his messengers to discover me whether dead or alive, and should I not march quickly, Abdullah might be attacked and overpowered, and the slave-hunters would possess themselves of all the ammunition and stores.

. . . This was not very refreshing news, after all the troubles we had gone through.

Had I received this important intelligence during my stay with Rionga, I should not have left Colonel Abd-el-Kader with sixty men behind me. It would not do to waste time by halting: and should I send to recall Abd-el-Kader immediately after my departure, the effect upon Rionga would create suspicion. The withdrawal of the troops would destroy all confidence on the part of his native allies.

I gave the order to march forward at once.

My horse, Jamoos, now the only survivor of all those that I brought from Cairo, was in good condition, but he suffered from a woeful sore back, occasioned by the heavy load that he had carried from Masindi. My wife was therefore obliged to walk, as the mud was too deep for the solitary donkey, who was weak and ill.

For more than a mile and a half we had to wade through flooded marshes nearly hip deep; the heavy rains had made the country boggy and unpleasant.

We had one sheep for the journey of seventy-nine miles, but this was missing upon the second day's march, and we subsequently discovered that it had been stolen and eaten by our guide and the carriers supplied by Rionga. We were thus reduced to dried fish in the place of our lost mutton, for which we felt inclined to go into mourning.

Although we had been badly fed of late, and for twenty-three days had been without solid animal food (since the march from Masindi), we were nevertheless in excellent health; and always hungry.

We marched well through the uninhabited wilderness of forest, high grass, and swamps, and arrived at the village of Sharga, ten miles from Fatiko, on August 1st, 1872.

The people had collected in considerable numbers to receive us, and we were presented with a fat ox for the troops, thirteen large jars of merissa, and a very plump sheep for ourselves.

The soldiers were delighted, poor fellows; and we likewise looked forward with no small pleasure to a good stew.

Numerous sheiks had collected to receive us, and a formal complaint and protest was made against Abou Saood and his people.

An attack had been planned by the slavers, and Abdullah and his small detachment of 100 men would be overpowered. They were already disheartened, as they believed that we were dead, and they had been daily taunted with this fact by the brigands, who asked them, "what they were going to do now that the Pacha was killed."

Abou Saood, having given his orders to Wat-el-Mek, and to the ruffian Ali Hussein, had withdrawn to the station of Fabbo, twenty-two miles west of Fatiko, to which place he had carried all the ivory. He was not fond of fighting, PERSONALLY.

The natives corroborated the information I had received from Rot Jarma's messengers. They declared that not only had women and children been carried off, but that the slave-hunters under Ali Hussein had cut the throats of many of their women before their eyes, and had dashed the brains of the young children upon the rocks in derision of my power; saying, "Now see if the Nuzzerani (Christian) can protect you!"

They declared that Wat-el-Mek really wished to join the government, but that when he got drunk, both Abou Saood and others could induce him to behave badly.

There were several hundred people present at this meeting; and the sheiks wound up in a cool and temperate manner, by advising me "not to judge from what they had told me, but simply to march early on the following morning to Fatiko, and to receive the report direct from my own commandant, Major Abdullah.

"If he contradicts us, you may say that we are liars; then never believe us again."

This was the conclusion of the palaver.

The morning of 2nd August arrived, and we started at 6.20 A.M., and marched fast over a beautiful country of dells, woods, and open park-like lands, until we ascended the hill that rose towards the high plateau at Fatiko.

As we passed the numerous villages we were joined by curious bands of natives, who by degrees swelled our party to nearly a thousand persons. There was no doubt that these people expected to witness a row, as they knew that Abdullah had been threatened. It was therefore highly probable that we might be attacked, as the slave-hunters would imagine that my small force of forty men was the last remnant of my detachment.

No one at Fatiko had an idea of my existence: thus we should arrive as though risen from the dead.

I halted the men on a large flat rock about a mile and a half south of Fatiko. Here they changed their clothes, and dressed in their best scarlet uniforms and white linen trousers.

We again marched forward, until, upon gaining the racecourse—like plateau, we perceived the station in the distance.

The bugles now sounded the "assembly", to apprise Major Abdullah of our approach. We then marched, while the natives, who delight in music, struck up an accompaniment on their whistles. My wife was riding the horse, as his back was nearly recovered.

With the telescope, I now perceived a great stir in Major Abdullah's camp. The men were running to and fro; presently red clots appeared; these rapidly increased, until a thin line of scarlet showed me that his troops were drawn up outside the camp to receive us.

We arrived at 9.30 A.M. The first formalities having been gone through, the troops embraced their friends; and I shook Major Abdullah warmly by the hand, and asked him for immediate news. He merely replied: "Thank God, sir, you are safe and arrived here; all will go well now that you are alive again. I have kept a journal, and when you have rested, I will hand you my report in writing."

My old dragoman, Mohammed, had burst out crying with joy at our arrival; and he assured me that it was most fortunate that I had appeared, as affairs had become worse than ever.

The natives that had accompanied us had ascended the large flat rock which commanded the station (and which now forms the citadel), upon which they had squatted down like a flock of cormorants, to observe all that passed.

No one had come to salute me from Abou Saood's station, which was almost a portion of that belonging to the government, as it was only separated by a level turf ninety yards across.

The absence of the vakeel and his people was a studied insult, as it was his duty to have at once appeared, with his men in line to receive us.

A hut having been swept out, I entered to change my dress, as I wished to inspect the troops. I never wore a uniform in this country, except upon state occasions; but a simple Norfolk shirt of thick white cotton, and trousers of the same material. This, with an Egyptian silk coffeeah arranged over my own old helmet hat was sufficient for Central Africa.