The returning hunters had covered a little more than three miles
of the five that had separated them from the village when they met
the first of the fugitives who had escaped the bullets and clutches
of the foe. There were a dozen women, youths, and girls in the
party, and so excited were they that they could scarce make themselves
understood as they tried to relate to Waziri the calamity that had
befallen his people.

"They are as many as the leaves of the forest," cried one of the
women, in attempting to explain the enemy's force. "There are many
Arabs and countless Manyuema, and they all have guns. They crept
close to the village before we knew that they were about, and then,
with many shouts, they rushed in upon us, shooting down men, and
women, and children. Those of us who could fled in all directions
into the jungle, but more were killed. I do not know whether they
took any prisoners or not--they seemed only bent upon killing us
all. The Manyuema called us many names, saying that they would eat
us all before they left our country--that this was our punishment
for killing their friends last year. I did not hear much, for I
ran away quickly."

The march toward the village was now resumed, more slowly and with
greater stealth, for Waziri knew that it was too late to rescue--their
only mission could be one of revenge. Inside the next mile a hundred
more fugitives were met. There were many men among these, and so
the fighting strength of the party was augmented.

Now a dozen warriors were sent creeping ahead to reconnoiter.
Waziri remained with the main body, which advanced in a thin line
that spread in a great crescent through the forest. By the chief's